He sat on the sofa feeling disgruntled, watching TV about a young woman who read a poem about hill climbing. I have climbed many hills, he said to himself, but there was always a steeper hill to conquer. Take sport, he said, women win everything you care to mention even football and ice-hockey the last bastion for men has been invaded to the newspapers delight, of course, the editors are women, as are the contributors; it isnβt fair. His wife enters. She has been on the treadmill for an hour, asks him if he has done the dishes? No! He says folding his arms in protest. Do them now the cleaning lady is coming, she may think badly about us. Triumph, at last, he thinks, typical female worries about silly things.