I was enjoying the second week of a two-week vacation the same way I had enjoyed the first week: by doing as little as possible. I ignored my wife’s not-so-subtle hints about completing certain jobs around the house, but I didn’t realize how much this bothered her until the clothes dryer refused to work, the iron shorted and the sewing machine motor burned out in the middle of a seam. The final straw came when she plugged in the vacuum cleaner and nothing happened. She looked so stricken that I had to offer some consolation. “That’s okay, honey,” I said. “You still have me.” She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. “Yes,” she wailed, “but you don’t work either!”