"Are you talking about murder for insurance money?" she said.

"That's right, listen to this. My wife is the worst. Just because we had twins, she stopped doing housework completely. There's dust piling up in the corners of the room, and we're eating nothing but prepared foods. Even this shirt I'm wearing right now—I had to take it to the cleaners myself. I can't stand it." In the crowded company cafeteria, a sales manager who happened to be sitting at my table was complaining. His wife was currently on leave, but she was a senior colleague I relied on. That senior had told me she was about to collapse from managing housework and childcare alone as a one-person operation. As I was wondering what to do, a voice unusually cheerful for the situation rang out: "Is that the story about insurance murder?"