Just back from a short stay in a cottage with DP, who I don't live with.
He's a newish DP, after a long marriage to a good man, who was perfectly willing and capable around the house, but did need telling.
I was sitting down after dinner on our last evening when DP appeared with a bin bag. He'd been round and emptied all the bins, cleared our stuff out of the fridge and the kitchen cupboard and given the kitchen a wipe round in preparation for our departure early next morning.
Two things struck me. That it was lovely that it all happened without me having to remember / think about it, and that I really shouldn't have been so surprised/impressed.