I have made a rod for my own back. About 4 years ago, DH had been saying how much he would like a tank of tropical fish, how restful it would be, what a charming addition to our home, etc etc.
So like a fool, I went out and bought him a tank and all the kit. I was heavily pregnant at the time, it's the only excuse I can find.
It's one of those Bi-Orb spherical things, with a heater and all the works to keep pretty little tropical fish.
The only problem is that after the initial rush of enthusiasm, DH has turned out to be the worst fishkeeper in the world.
This is how it goes:
DH spends an evening cleaning out tank, cursing a blue streak up to his elbows in slimy cold water.
DH replenishes tank with little bridges, pebbles and artificial greenery.
DH is then late home from work for about 3 consecutive nights because he's stopped off to 'look at fish'. Eventually comes home on 3rd night with bag of assorted mini-fish. If our luck is in, after a deal of faffing about, the fish make it into the tank (although they have been known to take a kamikaze dive over the side of the tank to their doom rather than waiting for the prolonged death that inevitably awaits them in Fish Room 101).
DH then forgets all about the fish other than popping some food in once a day, and within a couple of weeks we have an opaque sphere of stagnant water in the corner of the office. That's my office, so I have to sit here mumsnetting working listening to the overworked pump on the tank buzzing in the background.
Utter waste of money and space in the house, but whenever I suggest getting shut of it, he promises that he's really going to clean it up and keep it nice this time. And the fish refuse to die, inconsiderate little fuckers.
I need a new strategy. My mother suggests turning the pump off while he's at work so that it finally all packs in, but I think this might be a step too far.