misunderstanding between sex and sex.

If he is reading this, as he assuredly is, Mr. Omicron will up and
exclaim:

"My wife a grievance! Absurd! The facts are incontrovertible. What
grievance can she have?"

The grievance that Mr. Omicron, becoming every day more and more the
plain man, is not exercising imagination in the very field where it is
most needed.

What is a home, Mr. Omicron? You reply that a home is a home. You have
always had a home. You were born in one. With luck you will die in
one. And you have never regarded a home as anything but a home. Your
leading idea has ever been that a home is emphatically not an office
nor a manufactory. But suppose you were to unscale your eyes--that is
to say, use your imagination--try to see that a home, in addition to
being a home, is an office and manufactory for the supply of light,
warmth, cleanliness, ease, and food to a given number of people?
Suppose you were to allow it to occur to you that a home emphatically
is an organization similar to an office and manufactory--and an
extremely complicated and delicate one, with many diverse departments,
functioning under extremely difficult conditions? For thus it in truth
is. Could you once accomplish this feat of imaginative faculty, you
would never again say, with that disdainful accent of yours: "Mrs.
Omicron has nothing in the world to do but run the house." For really
it would be just as clever for her to say: "Mr. Omicron has nothing in
the world to do but run the office."