Haha. Yes, you are pretty much bang on with that description of a typical Sunday afternoon in my household. The only thing missing is that my partner in crime (the dog) is also usually farting and snoring on a Sunday afternoon after eating my 'your late home' Sunday dinner the disloyal tw@t. I dont mind the hound having a bit of Sunday dinner snap, but the day I walk in house from the pub and find him wearing my string vest and the tele controls in the paws is the day he over steps the mark.
Anyway, me and the missus have an agreement on most Sundays. I give her some free time to practice her culinary skills by making the dinner for the clan, play with her new toy (the iron), converse with her best friends (the kids), or even spend some intimate time with a 6 inch piece of plastic that is battery oparated and gives much pleasure.... (the tele controls obviously!), whilst I have to slum it in the surroundings of the 'Cock In Cider' alehouse talking bollox to my mates. She's a lucky girl that one I can tell you.