Could I get my husband to address the Christmas cards?

I wondered.  The family was coming.  There was shopping to do, gifts to wrap, the tree to decorate, cooking, cleaning.  I arranged the cards, stamps, and address book on the table, then hopefully pulled up a chair and said, “Come on, Dear, let’s get these out of the way.” 

He glanced at the array on the table, turned away, and went into the den, while I looked daggers at his back.  I heard a drawer jerk open and bang shut.  He returned with a high stack of cards, stamped, sealed and addressed.

“They’re last year’s,” he said.  “I forgot to mail them.  Now let’s go out to dinner and relax.  You’ve been working too hard.”