And my final one (until I think of another one)
Okay, reading back on this it's turned into a bit of a rant... ready? Ok, here goes:

My ex-wife used to question everything I did or said. I didn't notice it at first, but it gradually got to the point where I felt like shouting "I actually managed to survive for 31 years until I met you, I do know how to cope you know!" in her face.

I used to get home earlier from work than she did, so I used to cook dinner. She'd invariably come home and check all the pans to see what we were having, then start suggesting "Doesn't that need turning up a bit?", "Why are you cooking them like that?" etc. The final straw came when one day she came in, looked through all the pans and said "Aren't we having any vegetables?". They were actually already cooked, I can't remember why, and in the microwave awaiting a quick blast of radiation when everything else was done.
Only, instead of telling her that, I joked "No, I thought we could just have meat and gravy tonight, since the girls don't like vegetables anyway", whereupon she went off on one about how we had to have vegetables and started getting stuff out of the fridge. I asked her if she thought I was stupid and told her about the stuff in the microwave. Then barred her from the kitchen when I was cooking.

She always thought she knew a better route to somewhere than I did too. We used to work near each other so occasionally we'd share a car. This used to drive me mad; quite apart from the fact that she always turned my CD off and listened to some shit on Northants 96 Radio, she'd give me directions at every junction, sometimes in a different direction to the way I went - again prompting me to grind my teeth and struggle to resist the urge to shout about how I actually knew the way to work and in fact managed to get there without incident 5 times a week.

Wherever we went, if I picked the route she would always mutter "I don't know why you've gone this way, it's much longer than the way I would have gone", so I started asking her which way to go before we set off.

And finally: we went through a phase of going to a friend's house once a week for a while, and the "This is the long way" comments started, so I deliberately went a different way each week to see what happened. It didn't make any difference - apparently, every route to this house was longer than all the others!
Towards the end of the marriage we had some counselling and I mentioned this; afterwards we were talking about the session and she said "I can't believe you think I question everything. You didn't go a different way every week, why would you do that?", to which I had to point out "You're doing it again now!"

*deep breath*

Sorry about the length - I think you'll find it's my fault entirely, as I've typed this the long way.
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Tue 6 May 2008, 13:46, 4 replies)

It's A Rule
When I'm cooking (which is most of the time as Mrs Legless works ungodly hours) then she's not allowed in the kitchen.

I don't need help, I don't want help and, if you do help me then it won't be a surprise when I serve it.

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Tue 6 May 2008, 13:51, closed)

Sounds like me and my wife
Only the other way round.

She refuses to cook anymore.
(ScousersPet, Tue 6 May 2008, 13:53, closed)

Been there.
My ex used to insist on taking a "short cut" everywhere we went. Nine times out of ten this would increase our drive time by at least 20%, and would often result in us taking a back road through farmland.

She used to swear that it was faster to go through the neighborhood than to go along Midlothian Turnpike- despite the fact that Midlothian Turnpike is a FUCKING STRAIGHT LINE.

I'm glad we're no longer married.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Tue 6 May 2008, 14:26, closed)

Kitchen Etiquette
Again, I do most of the cooking. We have a narrow kitchen, cat-swinging is not an option.

I have a routine, whereby things get washed when I have finished using them, when the whole cooking procedure is complete.

Therefore, scrabbling around my generously sized person to grab assorted implements and wash them is *NOT* helping.

Taking twenty minutes to decide what vegetable delights we would enjoy is *NOT* helping.

Pouring away a large pan full of cooling home-made venison stock so the pan could be cleaned *should* be grounds for justifiable homicide.
(osok Rebel without a clue, Tue 6 May 2008, 14:56, closed)