Things I Do That I'm Pretty Sure My Husband Hates.

The Mister and I have a lo-o-o-ong history.....we knew each other for 8 years before we dated, and we've been married for 15. We've worked together at the same establishment for 25 years, and managed to maintain a civil relationship for most of that time. I'm eternally grateful that he knew what he was getting into, with me, and took me on anyway.
Himself is very easygoing and even tempered and laid-back; so much so that I have been tempted to shine a light into his eyes on occasion, to see if his pupils react. It's hard to distinguish between "relaxed watching a movie" and "comatose".
Although I am usually thoroughly charming and delightful company, I know that there are times when my quirks and behavior rouse him out of his usual state of contented stupor and his ire flares for a nanosecond or so.

I Talk To Him In The Mornings: Himself really does not function on anything but a molecular level before 9 a.m. And yet, I persist in trying to engage him in conversation when he gets up, because I am a morning person and do not yet fully understand that he is not. When I ask him at 7 a.m. what he would like for dinner that night, I get a confused, irritated, slitty-eyed glare that takes up more energy than he possesses at the time. When I talk to him in the mornings, he has to go back to bed and have a nap.

I Lose Things: I am perpetually misplacing things around the house, putting things down while thinking about something else, and then utterly unable to find them again. It drives him crazy. (This is a function of having to think of too many things at once. I tell my family that my head is like a toilet; it can only contain so much shit at any given time.) The Mister cannot figure out how I can put down a receipt or a pair of scissors, only to forget where I put it ten seconds later.

I Take Off My Nail Polish: The Mister HATES the smell of nail polish remover, and when I take off the nail polish and put the little cotton balls in the wastebasket in our bathroom, he can smell it in the bedroom and it makes him dream of nuclear waste dumps and Soylent Green.

I Don't Understand Most of What He Is Talking About: When he talks about fixing computers, which is a skill I value entirely and I'm really very grateful he can do, my eyes glaze right over. I think he thinks that I'm not interested, (and he's right), but I'm so happy that he's talking to me at all that I will valiantly put on an interested face and nod my head. But he knows he may as well be saying 'blah, blah, blah' and I would have the exact same expression.

I Can't Seem To Follow Movies: I think "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy was pure torture for the man...."wait! is that the same guy from before?", "so he used to be a hobbit?", "how come she's not able to go there?", "is that the guy from 'Pirates of the Caribbean'?" and so on for nine hours.
It doesn't help that I cannot stay awake once I sit down to watch a movie, so it took me three attempts to get through "Oceans Eleven", and by then I had absolutely no clue whatsoever as to what was going on and had to have it patiently explained to me in detail.

I Refuse To Put Raisins in Anything: I hate raisins in things. On their own they are passable, but in baked goods they are forbidden in the Loudshoes kitchen. Raisins in buttertarts, in particular, are an abomination against God and man. The Mister cannot accept this edict, and occasionally will argue with me on it, like there is any chance in this lifetime that I will change my mind. I will not. (His mother makes very nice buttertarts with raisins [she makes 3 for me without!] and he will have to be satisfied with that.)

I Sing: Okay, everybody hates that one.

All things considered, we have a pretty good deal with one another.