After 37 years of marriage, Edna was completely fed up with Harold’s predictable nightly routine: dinner at five, news at six, grumbling at seven, and snoring like a broken lawnmower by eight.
One sweltering summer evening, as she stood sweating over the ironing board in the middle of their bedroom, Edna suddenly set down the iron and looked at her husband with a sly smirk.
“Harold,” she purred, “shall we try a completely different position tonight?”
Harold’s eyes widened in sheer terror. His mind instantly panicked—was she going to force him into couples yoga? His lower back still hadn’t recovered from the infamous gardening incident of 2008. Swallowing his fear, he stammered, “Uh… sure, Edna. What exactly did you have in mind?”
Edna leaned back dramatically, exhaled a sigh, and delivered her proposition:
“How about you stand over here by the hot ironing board, while I go sit on the living room sofa and relax like absolute royalty?”
Harold blinked, let out a massive sigh of relief, and replied:
“Done. Just as long as I don’t have to fold the fitted sheets—that’s where I draw the line.”
