Nothing feels better than being right.  Even if you win a bet on which day you’ll die, at least there’ll be a sense of accomplishment to mitigate the pain.  Unfortunately, I’m usually wrong and my soon-to-be-married-person absolutely loves repeating her catchphrase “god you’re such an idiot” with feverish consistency.  I might not ever remember where I left my keys, if I closed the refrigerator door, or what I was supposed to get at the grocery store, but I found at least one thing I can write into the “win” column:  Getting one of those fancy new digital assistants is akin to inviting Big Brother into your sanctuary.