Sometimes I put dishes in the dishwasher too!

My husband is a good guy. The complaints I have (because I am a person filled with bitterness and bile and people, it has to go somewhere) are by and large fairly trivial (which is not to say I can't work up a good vituperative rant on any one of them at any given moment). I don't know whether he's done any random coveting of our neighbours' wives (hey, hasn't everyone?), but he's good on the basics, and the big things.
But sometimes? I just don't get him. He overthinks things, he overcomplicates things, and it's like he thinks it will cause him physical pain to just agree with me about something. A few months ago one of the shelves in the kitchen started giving way and he had to reinforce the supporting posts. Whatever -- crappy mass builder stuff. A couple of weeks ago one of the drawers in Angus's dresser came off the rails and wouldn't go back on. The dresser belonged to Matt's younger brother, making it roughly thirty years old -- not terribly surprising that it's falling apart. But my husband looks at it differently. He looked at the shelves and said "well, you have a lot of stuff in there". Yeah -- plates, cups, the odd bowl. It's a shelf. In the kitchen. He looked at the drawer and said "wow, you've got a lot of t-shirts packed in there". Yeah, and boys' t-shirts are made really heavy these days....?
So basically he's accusing me of wrecking the house. By treating furniture (wait for it) as furniture.
Sweet, loyal, dependable, great father, funny, considerate, dynamite in the sack. But about some things he really has his head stuck up his butt.