Today was the final straw, he took his car to get scrapped, walked home and trod oil onto the hallway carpet. It's so far been me and only me who has tried to get it out and I'm quietly fuming about it. I have anxiety about dirty carpets. No idea why but I do.
This all rests on other things.
The house hasn't been standing very long, in fact I've lived here for less than five months.
But still, in this time the kitchen cupboard has come off in my hand, he refuses to fix it.
The hallway is all dinged from when he tried to move the sofa through the hall and up the stairs.
Every bloody toilet seat in the house is broken.
The radiator in the hall was also knocked off the wall in the process of moving the sofa.
I also have only two sets of curtains up in the house (8 more sets to go) and not one solitary light shade.
Stuff that needed to go in the loft when we moved in was never moved up so the spare room that I intended on having as a dressing room is a junk room, and I have toolboxes is both the office and my bedroom.
Oh and I also have no mirrors up in the house either.
It doesn't feel homely and I'm pissed off with feeling like we've still just moved in.
Fwiw and so I don't drip feed, every issue he could sort. He's a builder and actually oversaw the build of the house we live in so it's not like he doesn't have the ability to do these things, and in fact would lose his shit if I saw it as something I wanted to do.
Maybe I'm being a cow, but I want a house to look nice and feel like home, but it doesn't. I fucking hate this house. I hate it.