So many, but this thread has been so reassuring.
He cleans any spillage on the kitchen floor with a tea towel and leaves them in a pile in the corner. Because the utility room is too far to bother with.
Does most of the cooking (great) but in stead of dishing up nicely, just shouts 'FUUUUUUUUDDDD' in a weird accent and we have to scuttle in and collect our own at the summons. He always cooks too much food and won't check the fridge before he starts buying more.
There's the classic ridiculously loud sneezing, socks on the living room floor, shoes left all over the bedroom floor in my way round to my side.
His speciality is to talk sanctimoniously about how he's always 'scrubbing and bleaching' the kitchen which somehow excuses him from input anywhere else in the house, yet in reality means wiping the surfaces with flash spray. Not cleaning the sink, floor, hob, oven, fridge, bins, cupboard doors etc.
Whenever I look in, on my way past to do everything else, he's leaning with his elbows on the work top, glued to the kindle, either watching a loud film he's seen eleventy-million times before or Jeremy fucking Clarkson. But feeling virtuous. Because of the bleaching.
He's very heavy handed moving ironing that ive just finished, if he considers it to be in his way. Makes me wince.
He sweeps my purse for change and £5 notes rather than getting cash out. So I go to park or pay for something and there's nothing there.
But he's in my good books at the moment because he's just got a great new job. And he does do a lot of the cooking. I'll sleep well tonight.