Chore for the day is to install a new disposer in the kitchen. Fun times.
More power to you. I can't do any plumbing stuff like that, cause I can't get myself contorted enough to get under the sink. Or if I did, I feel like I'd never get back up.
Disposers are pretty easy, unless installed by assholes. Barring that, the work is done from a sitting position. Don't have to crawl in with it. Unplug from the wall, take out two screws for the drain pipe, loosen a third screw and pull the dishwasher hose off, slip a screwdriver into one of the eyes of the coupling and turn clockwise, and slip the old disposer out. Wipe up the inevitable drips. Disconnect the cord from the old disposer, wire it into the new one with wire caps, and anchor with electrical tape. Slip it into place and spin the coupler counterclockwise, hook the drain back up, hook the dishwasher hose back up. Make sure everything's tight, turn on the water, run the new disposer, and check for leaks. Done.
To make the wife sympathetic, scatter tools everywhere, cuss a lot, mutter about the damned engineers who design this shit, and pretend to hurt yourself a coupla times. Then, when it's done and you've put a the tools away, she'll say, "Thank you so much. It's wonderful. You're amazing. You should go have a drink and a cigar."
You've clearly never met my wife. 
No, but clearly you've allowed her to become accustomed to expecting too much from you. Are you not getting the man-card advisory e-mail notifications?
I tend to mute most notifications. 
Well, you're fucking this up for the rest of us, unless you can assure us that your wife is earning at least 40% of your household gross income. If that's the case, you can ignore any criticism from me.
My wife earns approximately 10% of the household gross income. And her niece and grandnephews are allowed to live in our home, with my full support, while we try to show them how to manage their lives. You know, like, you have to go to work and pay your bills on time and such, even if you're an expert welfare queen (which my wife's niece is, by every conceivable definition).
So the exchange for that is I get my laundry done and I get dinner cooked for me five nights a week, and I get appreciated for making sure the plumbing works, the cars run as they should, and the roof doesn't leak.
Yeah, I know, I'm a sexist, Fascist Republican asshole.
