I luffs DH, I really does. And I know I signed up for all this when I married a man with a chronic bowel condition.
But.
This morning I got DD up, BFed her, fed her breakfast, emptied and loaded the dishwasher, put away laundry, put on new laundry, entertained DD, undertook a search-and-destroy mission in the fridge, got me and her dressed, and had half a cup of tea, while DH was on the toilet grunting and reading his phone.
And I can't vent any of this at him, it's not his fault his guts are iffy. He's been to loads of doctors, he's had all the treatments, one of the treatments gave him cancer so that was rubbish, he has a really boring diet of easily-digestible stuff...and it obviously sucks having a chronic condition that ties you to the shitter for hours every morning...
...but when I go in there to brush my teeth or hose off DD or something, he stops reading with a guilty sort of look, and gets off the pot and pootles around making the tea or getting his breakfast, until the next time he feels he needs to run back in there, which suggests to me that perhaps he is doing slightly more hiding out reading than is really warranted...
...and I wouldn't mind a bit of time to myself in the mornings as well. And now DD is napping and it IS my time, but I'm too pissed off to do anything useful. And anyway it's snowing so the next thing I have to do is go shovel the path and the drive and the fire escape. Can't shovel snow when you're constantly on the bog, how convenient.