Permanent Depress

Every Friday morning, before the maid arrives, Marla scrubs the toilets and sinks, stuffs socks into the hamper, changes the sheets, dusts, and sweeps. Then she gently pushes back her cuticles, files her nails, and polishes them with two coats of a light neutral shade before heading to the salon for her weekly manicure.
Every year for 25 years, she’s woken up two hours earlier than her husband. And every morning, when he shuffles into the kitchen with pillow-marks on his cheeks and rumpled hair, Marla is coiffed, outfitted, and smiling, serving sunnyside-up eggs whose yolks are dying to break.