You hear terrible noises coming from the bathroom and you run back to check on him. While shaving, the sink has clogged up, and your man has discovered that there is an enormous amount of Bathroom Sink Skankful Matter gumming up the works. He begins pulling Horrible, Awful Things from within the dank depths of the ancient drain. This is how you find him: naked, face half covered in shaving foam, gagging, hard at work.
"I got it," he says when you offer to help. "Just taking care of my woman," he says in between retching, and waves me back to the kitchen and my making of Splendiferous Omelettes.
And after breakfast, he heads out to the store for liquid plummer.
Oh yeah, and there is also that cross between cookie baking and massage that he bestowed upon you last night til your eyes refused to focus and you became unable to form consonants, although the vowels seemed to stay pretty intact.
Yeah. Plumbing and baking. What more does a gal need?