Men are from Mars

As my wife is sleeping, I open up her head and look inside. It's a mess. There are half-finished thoughts laying around all over the place- some discarded, some set aside, disparate ideas are thrown together, hap-hazard, in piles. It dawns on me that this is why I never understand her when we argue.

I tidy up a bit, trying to give her thoughts some semblance of order. I put causes before effects and link together syllogisms. I untangle fact from opinion from masses of emotion. I throw out a pile of contradictions.

When she wakes up, she seems alert. It seems a burden has been lifted. I can see her thinking about something. She looks at me with disappointment, "You'll never understand women." She then holds her hands up to her head and shakes it vigorously.