It's eight o'clock on a Saturday morning, I was up all night doing taxes, and I've had only four hours of sleep when my wife, having decided this would be a good time to torture me, wakes me with an angry accusation: "You didn't do the dishes!"
I put a pillow over my head.
"You said you were going to do them!"
"I'm trying to sleep, Mia."
Mia doesn't care. "How come I have to do all the work around here?"
I hold the pillow tighter. "Can't this wait?"
"No."
Now I'm angry.
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