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.