There's something wrong with a mother who washes out a measuring cup with soap and water after she's only measured water in it.

My mother won't admit it, but I've always been a disappointment to her. Deep down inside, she'll never forgive herself for giving birth to a daughter who refuses to launder aluminium foil and use it over again.

I learned the importance of a man's chair early in life. I learned that he may love several wives, embrace several cars, be true to more than one political philosophy, and be equally committed to several careers, but he will have only one comfortable chair in his life. I learned it will be an ugly chair. It will match nothing in the entire house. It will never wear out.

I became hysterical and frightened and begged for sedation. And that was just the first prenatal visit.

The grass is always greener over the septic tank.

Making coffee has become the great compromise of the decade. It's the only thing "real" men do that doesn't seem to threaten their masculinity. To women, it's on the same domestic entry level as putting the spring back into the toilet-tissue holder or taking a chicken out of the freezer to thaw.

I take a very practical view of raising children. I put a sign in each of their rooms: 'Checkout Time is 18 years.'