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to insomnia. His wife was, on the contrary, a very heavy sleeper. It was Nasrudin's amiable habit, when he was having a particularly bad night, to go into his wife's room, shake her into reluctant wakefulness, and say: "What's the matter, dear? Can't you sleep either?"
138.
"Oh, poor Mr. Jones," mourned Mulla Nasrudin. "Did you hear what happened to him? He tripped at the top of the stairs, fell down the whole flight, banged his head and died."
"Died?" said Mrs. Nasrudin, shocked.
"Died!" repeated the Mulla with emphasis. "Broke his glasses too."
139.
Mulla Nasrudin: "If a man steals, no matter what, he will live to regret it."
Wife (coyly): "You used to steal kisses from me before we were married."
Nasrudin: "Well, you heard what I said."
140.
Mulla Nasrudin came into the house, dripping wet and looking incredibly bedraggled. Outside the window, the pelting rain was all too visible.
His sympathetic wife said: "Oh, it's raining cats and dogs outside."
"You are telling me," said Nasrudin. "I just stepped in a poodle."
141.
"Who was that sweet young thing, Mulla, I saw you with last night?" asked a friend.
"That was no sweet young thing, boy -- that was my wife," replied Mulla Nasrudin.
142.
Mulla Nasrudin and his wife stopped on the street to watch a funeral procession pass. It was done in elaborate style, from the long, gleaming hearse, through the cars packed with flowers, to the impressive line of automobiles following.
Said Mulla Nasrudin's wife: "It's a rich guy. I have watched funerals like that before. There's a solid mahogany casket, polished so you can see your face in it, with satin lining and gold carved handles. They put it in a big mausoleum, with stone doors, statues, flowers, praying and singing."
"Wow," said Mulla Nasrudin, eyes shining. "Now that's what I call living."
143.
Salesman: "Sir, is your wife at home?"
Mulla Nasrudin: "Yes, sir."
Salesman (after knocking in vain): "I thought you said she was at home, sir?"
Nasrudin: "yes, sir, but I don't live here."
144.
Mulla
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