Where have the days gone when ladies of good breeding could simply swoon a little on the settee and someone would bring in a tonic in a cut-glass bottle, after which the lady would sleep soundly for several hours or days? Now we have nervous breakdowns, go ape-shit, go insane, etc. Not exactly ladylike.
No modern home containing one gently imprisoned wife and mother should be without this:
If my husband said "Easy Now," I'd hurl a potato at him, but somehow having a cardboard box of tea express its empathy is very reassuring. There's a dissertation in here somewhere.
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