He'd die without me

My husband loves to watch movies: war movies, scary ones, zombies, ninjas, spies and stupid giant anaconda movies. You'd think he would get useful tips from all of these, but no. He would be fated to be one of the folks that get killed by the vampire/psycho/backwoods mad scientist, because he NEVER looks behind him.

When he gets up from the table, he's done. Not talking dinner time when we both clear up afterward, but when he has a snack or fixes his own, he can happily abandon the bowl and the parmesan cheese sitting on the table, waiting for Rosie to slide her nose over to grab them.

He can walk out of the bathroom, and ignore the puddle of water on the floor that I step into.  He has no idea how it gets there. "Did you forget your towel and have to grab one around the corner?" Nope . "Did you grab a razor? Open the curtain for any reason with the water on?"  Nope.  It's there because he doesn't make sure the curtain is flat against the wall. Behind him.

Trims his mustache and lets the little hairs fall where they may. Leaves his slippers in the living room with two crazy dogs.  You get the idea.

So, if a homicidal alien came to town, J would never see it coming. He'd be that person with his back to the door, crossing the room to close the shades and getting zapped. "Did you hear that funny slurping sound as you left the room?" Nope.
Of course not, it was behind him.

And if he keeps walking faster than me in parking lots, he won't have to wait for a homicidal alien to get him.  Just saying, it gets annoying.


(Of course he does his own laundry, including ironing, cooks at least half of our meals and feeds the hens, but for the purposes of this post- none of that matters)