But...what do you do when your wife already works as a jeweler? WHAT DO YOU DO?

Besides, in my house, the doghouse is the least of my worries. My wife is taller than I am, and she has extremely sharp elbows. After eight years of marriage, I now have a dent in the top of my head deep and wide enough to use as a candleholder. I know that I've gone too far (as I did this week when I told her that Lee Harvey Oswald's old coffin was going up for auction, and when she asked why I wanted it, I said "Soup stock") when I hear those elbows slide out of their sheathes and start drooling venom on the floor. It's the hissing as the venom burns holes in the carpet that usually tips me off that it's going to be BAD.

Besides, my wife is Welsh. She prefers utilizing seaside resorts for her punishment.

My mistake was an exquisite culinary baking dish, Le Cruset, but the sentence was only to the puppy bin plus probation for as long as it took me to bake 100 lasagnas.