I was away at a writers conference for most of last week, calling in daily to check on the Beloved Spousal Equivalent, who was happily busy painting her bathroom in preparation for the new sink to be plumbed so her new cabinets could be hung.
She told me she'd probably need my help with the cabinets. We could do it after work on Monday. I pointed out there was a baseball playoff doubleheader on television after work on Monday. She paused only a second and said it wouldn't take long. I was unconcerned, as the miracle of modern DVR technology allows me to control the space-time continuum when televised sporting events are involved.
I got home last night, dropped off my stuff, and engaged my beloved in domestic conversation. After a few minutes she slipped in a morsel about how there had been a power failure over the weekend and she was having trouble with the big television in the living room. Half an hour of troubleshooting--which consisted largely of looking for the manual--showed the bulb was burned out. It's a do-it-yourself repair, once you get the bulb, which will take from one to three days. This conveniently left my Monday open for whatever home improvement tasks might be on the agenda.
She's not as dumb as I look.
Virtue is sometimes its own reward. The plumber never showed, and nothing can be done until the sink is in.
The Home Office is not mocked.