Usually husband is at work on a Saturday morning (often followed by a trip to watch Manchester City lose), but this Saturday he was at home. His idea of Saturdays and mine seem to be quite different:
Me: Will you do the Tesco shop while I take daughter to library?
Him: Okay, where's the list?
"That's part of doing the Tesco shop!" I think, but quickly scribble a list to avoid ending up with four boxes of Mr Kiplings and no fruit. It would happen.
Me (on way out to library): When the washing machine finishes, will you peg it out and put the next load in?
Him (with a pained expression): But it's Saturday!
What I meant, but didn't say (in the interests of maintaining a successful marriage), was "Saturdays are when the shopping, library, washing, cleaning and ironing get done. I don't spend it drinking tea, watching TV or reading. There's no magic fairy that does it all before you get home from work! If you're not at work, you join the programme, soldier! "