I am trying to dress myself quietly, but my wife rolls over and pulls the duvet low enough to reveal one staring eye.What are you doing up? she says.I'm a businessman, I say.You always say that, she says.Because you always ask the same question, I say.My wife navigates her world with reference to fixed points: she's the one who gets up early, eager to seize the day by the throat; I'm the one left behind to lie in, the laggard with a pillow clamped over his head.
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