When Jennifer’s after me about something, she’s really after me. If I went to bed without tidying the kitchen, the next morning she’ll shout at me, “This kitchen is filthy!” I come in and look around the kitchen. There are three or four cups out; it’s not filthy. But the drama with which she imbues such moments is natural to her. That’s her way of saying, Gee, when you get a chance I’d appreciate it if you could just tidy up the kitchen a little more. If she did say it that way to me, I would say, I’d be happy to, and I’m sorry that I didn’t do it sooner. But because she comes at me with that
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