My husband’s favorite part of our marriage is what he calls the “Magic Hole!” I’m not kidding, the MAGIC HOLE. Yeah. You know what that is. It’s that thing that men who don’t have access to completely envy men who do. Every man wants one.

It disappoints me that he calls it ‘the magic hole’ instead of giving it a cute nickname like Hazel or Alice. Something French might be nice. Come to think of it, if it came with a French maid’s outfit, he might even like it more. Whatever!

I think he has fantasized about the magic hole all of his adult life. A stroll down the aisle and no more trips to small dank rooms armed with pockets full of quarters. No worries that you forgot something once you were there or that you would lose something once you put it in. Once married, he could stop the jaunts to the garage to do his business. He now has a magic hole, one of the most appreciated gifts of marriage.

I know he would love it if the magic hole was exercised more often. But I maintain that once a week is plenty! No matter how much or how dirty it is. I really don’t like it very much.

Oh, you are thinking dirty thoughts, aren’t you? Shame on you! Spray and wash your mind!

The magic hole is the LAUNDRY CHUTE, of course. Yes, that’s right, the laundry chute. He puts the dirty clothes in and they magically reappear clean and folded on the foot of the bed. That’s the magic hole. It’s like an automatic maid. Fluff and fold, and the man is happy. Who knew that the way to a man’s heart is through fabric softener? Mystery solved.

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