The Problem with Women
The keys were in the ignition. He saw them through the side window. A locksmith might be available, but it was Sunday and it would be expensive.
“I have some old, saved keys,” his wife said and went inside.
“How childish,” he muttered angrily, “to believe that any house key would fit the car lock.”
He was still trying to think logically when she returned.
“Let’s try this one.”
It was a padlock key, totally different from the car key. Quietly, he grumbled something about intelligence and “women’s irrational thinking.”
The door opened!
He didn’t return her smile.