My friend called a Venetian-blind repairman to come pick up
a faulty blind. The next morning, while the family was at
breakfast, the doorbell rang. My friend's blonde wife went to the
door, and the man outside said, "I'm here for the Venetian
blind."
Excusing herself in a preoccupied way, the blonde wife went to the
kitchen, fished a dollar from the food money, pressed it
into the repairman's hand, then gently closed the door and
returned to the table.
"Somebody collecting," she explained, pouring the coffee.
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