Husband for Sale
It's a good morning, fast asleep he is, snoring out loud and laid out, a log of wood. I proceed to the days chores, half into it, I am drained out, so tired hunger feels me not.
Around 12am, he murmurs, "good morning dear, how was your night", he says. Is that a question, i wonder, but as usual I reply in the affirmative, " fine as always my love" I feel something like a peck on my cheek and I wonder in amazement what its all about.
Nne, my sweet darling wifee, the aroma in this your cubicle is making the worms in my tommy jump up.
I need no soothsayer to tell me that our Oga is hungry. Fast I go, lay is food on the table and disappear to attend to other important things. The cloths have to be washed, compound cleaned, tiles mopped and wiped dry, Oh no! It is a Saturday. Did that washing machine just give way to tears? The sound I seek is that of joy but, alas, the opposite is the case. No repairs until Tuesday, have to do the washing myself I moan. How I wish I had a husband. Hush! Did I just say that? That's a sleep of my tongue I guess.
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