The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1926-12-04
The
WOMAN'S
DAY
BY Anene Sumner

l have just come nome with my
one evening dress and bottle Of
French perfums from a strictly fe-
male convention, For three days 1
have played and worked with profess
sional women in the mass. / had a
grand time, but they set me wonder
ing.
I am wondering If woman is not
her own worst enemy. I am wonder
ing If the great insidious, devastating
foe Of the working woman is not her
sharpened powers of observation that
lead only into a state of super-criti-
cality which shuts her out from life
To boil 1t all down, are women, single
women, working women, especially,
becoming so nervously darned criti-
cal that they don't have a good time,
and merely ruin good times for
everyone else?
Now to be perfectly frank. the
wonder began to grow about my own
self. / was grouchy, l guess, from
too much train riding. My humor
was not Of the best when the porter
showed me to my hotel room and
cast my eagle orbs over It. 1t was
hot. For the love o. Nike" or
something equally amiable, "open a
window" directed 1. He did so, and
vanished.
I unpacked. AS I have before re-
marked. / own an evening gown.
This one was new-the apple of my
eye. Perhaps 1 should say the pump
kin Of my eye, for in hue it resembles
that rotund garden fruit. But it real
ly Is swell. It has rhinestone doo-
hickies down the front which glitter
and glisten like unto the rainment Of
the Queen of Sheba in all her pristine
glory. and theirs an orangey fragile
orchid of chiffon and rhinestones
that diddle-daddles on the shoulder,
and
BY this time the gentle reader may
have guessed that 1 like that dress.
Tenderly padded the shoulders with
tissue paper and prepared to hang
it on the closet rod. Being born
cautious and being rather accustom-
ed to hotel rooms, I trailed my fin
gers over the close rod. My finger
came off looking as If it belonged
to a lady born on the sunkist
strands of Ethiopia I was mad. I
phoned downstairs and informed one
nd drx IL MI ~
the closet wouldn't come amiSs.
A tap on the door and in burst
my buddy clamoring for ink. She
mouthed sweet nothing about these
blamed hotels that never keep the
ink wells filled and never any sta
tionery in the desk. Buddy having
departed in high wrath, decided to
calm my own nerves so pathetically
narrowed by sooty closet rods by re-
clining In bed and reading for an
hour or so before the evening
speech making. DARN There was
no bed light. BY some huffing and
putting l managed to drag the desk
near the bed. perilously perch the
desk lamp on the corner and, thus
lighted. peruse my book. But 1 was
too peeYed to read. ] was using
about ten gallons of nervous energy
mentally telling hotels just what I
didn't think of them and wondering
just why other people didn't do their
jobs as efficiently as I had to do
mine IL | ate.
Fortunately, senses Of humor do
exist And common sense can assert
itself Or perhaps it was "Nize
Raby. wot EFT up all the proone
iooces" that restored me to sanity
But once again the scene was
changed, and I giggled at my own
imbecility-the imbecility of letting
such simple things as a window to
be opened, a closet rod to be side
swiped with a damp towel, an absent
bed light. or an empty Ink bottle.