I realize this because I am dancing around the apartment to The Art Of Noise, clearing the decks in the kitchen in prep for making a nine-course dinner for eight in a galley kitchen with eight (8) square feet of counterspace, which is a feat of creative engineering and resource dispersal, not to mention ergonomics, let me tell you, and...
...I realized, he does this every Sunday.
And gets the laundry washed, as well.
Yup. He's me in a boy suit, with the world's most useless superpower.
Sorry, man. We fucked you.
But I'll save you a slice of pie.