My dear mother, in one of her less-perceptive moments many years ago, turned from her dressing table to address my seven-year-old self with the following admonition: "Men work, women stay home."
In other words, I was to steel myself psychologically for being in harness until I finally collapsed in the traces, good for only one thing: endless, muleish toil to provide the wherewithall for some woman to take it easy.
Poor mother, her zeitgeist was already on the way out. Today it is long gone and we who once could look forward only to continuous labor on behalf of some nail-polishing parasite have been liberated beyond common understanding. But at least one of us gets it. Haw.
THE TEXAS SCRIBBLER 
Ach, it was good. Playing with fire, though, that man…
Heh. It’s too late. They are in the harness now and we are the riders.