“Honey, let’s make a bet. If you can keep it going for ten minutes, I’ll do the housework until New Year.”

I said sure.
She took out an hourglass—the one set for three minutes.
“When this hourglass has finished leaking, you win.”
I said, isn’t this three minutes?
She didn’t say anything, placing the hourglass flat on the table.
The sand stopped flowing.
“Now start the countdown. When does the sand start to flow, and when does it stop.”
I looked at her, then at the hourglass lying flat.
And suddenly I understood.
She never meant for the sand to flow.
I immediately conceded defeat.
She said, “Smart. The housework is yours.”
That hourglass is still lying flat on the bedside table.
I never touched it again.