Rock, paper, scissors?

Ever since the semester ended, I've taken to getting up around 8 and not showering right away. Instead, I hang around the house (working, yes, don't worry) in my pajamas for a few hours until the mood strikes me to take a shower. (N.B.: This is what happens to you when you work from home. Do not desire it.) John, of course, is a willing and able accomplice in all this and sometimes manages to out-do me in the Dance of the Shower Postponement. This is all fine and well, of course, until the doorbell rings. And then we both get that deer-in-the-headlights look and suddenly our lives devolve into all-out negotiation. It's a battle of wills, really, of Stubborn v. Stubborn. And when one of us finally breaks down and goes to the door, after innumerable rounds of PLEASE GO GET THE DOOR FOR ME! I'LL UNLOAD THE DISHWASHER! and OH COME ON, IT'S NOT THAT BAD- JUST GO ANSWER THE DOOR!, inevitably the person at the door has left. Hopefully they assumed that the people inside were on important conference calls to London, not sitting around, unwashed, holding talks about door-answering responsibilities.