* * * * * When I got home that night, I didn't say anything about Hatty Dakkon. My wife is inclined to see things differently than I do and I had a hunch she would side with Hatty. Consequently, rather than get into a discussion, I just let it slide. Not too many of you boys know my wife, but those who do know that she is like so many other women--not particularly interested in any Civic Machine. Just so she gets what she wants when she dials the home connection to the Machine is all she is interested in. That night, though, my wife surprised me by having a burning interest in the Civic Machine. She wanted to know all about it. How it produces the consumer products. How it gets them to the living area. How it knows what to order. And she especially quizzed me about the new Projector. When I asked her why she wanted to know about all that after 15 years of married life, she just smiled sweetly and said that naturally she was interested in my work. * * * * * Next day, I brought home a sample programming sheet for her to see and damned if she didn't dismiss it with a sniff as being too complicated and boring. Go figure women out! That night, we had two molded gelatin dishes. The round kind with a hole in the center. The next night, we had the same kind of supper, except that instead of fish and something in gelatin, we had meat and something in gelatin. Same sort of deal for dessert. The next day, I got my first tip that something was up when Willie Kipe, the caster for NYC-TV, called me and asked about the protest on the Central Park roofing proposal, saying he got the item from his woman assistant. I said it didn't amount to much and that the project was going ahead on schedule. I caught Willie's cast that night and he treated it in a light manner which really made me smile. I should have been crying instead. That night, we had some more molded gelatin, only in square molds this time. Same thing the next day. I figured it was time to take a stand--a diplomatic one, of course. "Honey," I said as I sat toying with my food, "can't we have different dishes every night? I'm getting tired of all this gelatin junk. How about a steak?" "But, darling, gelatin is very good for you. It's simply crammed full of protein and all the girls at the club are eating lots of gelatin." "But I don't like gelatin _that_ well," I said. "I don't, either, but it's so good for _both_ of us," she said with her best don't-try-to-argue-Mother-knows-best smile. I had a steak that night after she went to bed. * * * * * The next day, I got a call from the head of the warehousing division over at Civic, asking me if I had any preference on warehousing molds. "What molds?" I wanted to know.