permanent noise. nose blowing, annoying the cats, mutters incessantly.
makes a ‘hnh’ sound every time someone on the telly says something, or a thing happens.
refuses to concentrate on the first 5 minutes of a film, then spends an hour asking me who that man is, and why has that happened?
reads his facebook timeline out loud to me.
will literally believe anything he is told (but this one can be fun as i had him convinced for a full year that Tony Hadley was a high jump champion in his youth and now coaches the Olympic youth team, which is why Spandau Ballet haven’t got back together).
narrates the telly. oh, he’s opened that door now. what’s that there then? he’s going over there now. that lady has a knife etc etc FOREVER GOD JUST SHUT UP.
socks on the kitchen floor in front of the washing machine. what the fuck.
cannot ever find anything, ever. because he doesn’t look.
talks to me from any room in the house except the one i am in. makes me stabby.
i do love him though, as i am a fucking nightmare and he puts up with all my nonsense.