As night fell one Saturday, I was feeling pretty good about myself. I had accomplished all twelve of the tasks on my wife’s “honey do” list. I’d hung drapes, moved shelves, replaced the garbage disposal, and fixed the clothes dryer. You name it, I’d done it . . . and all without waking the baby from a nap or making one trip to the emergency room. As I poured a well-deserved glass of wine and retreated to the couch beside my bride, I had no idea the real service had yet to begin.