My mother befriended a little French priest from that rectory (she typed for them). He came to our home in his beautiful white cassock and we fed him American food. When my mother and he spoke about finding a proper spouse, he told her: “Every mop finds its handle.” Father LeBlanc, that was his name. Dear Father LeBlanc. 1965.
LOL! “Every pot has its lid,” we used to say!
“Every mop finds its handle.”
Meaning the wife is the mop and the husband is the handle?