The Vase

Margaret put down the magazine she had been reading and sighed.  She had been looking at the recipes; somehow, nothing appealed to her today.  The tempting dishes seemed too complicated; the easy ones too dull. It was just one of those days, she said to herself.  In spite of all the work she had had to do that day, she had accomplished almost nothing.  The ironing lay dampened in a plastic bag.  The mending was piled on the sewing machine, untouched.  The dishes were done, and the beds made,...