spousal unit bitch fest

There are a lot of things I hate talking to my husband about.
Generalized statements, or examples cannot be used.
You have to be specific and you can not use absolutes.

If you say, "You never put your shoes away."  He looks at you, raises his eyebrow, and in an incredibly defensive tone says, "NEVER?"  You literally have to come to him with fucking numbers...  "Okay honey, in the last 58 days you have only put your shoes away twice...  so it appears as though we have a shoe putting away problem that I'd like to address"

He thinks he knows what I'm going to say, and therefore does not wholly listen to me.
He will interrupt me to ask someone else a question and carry on a mini-conversation while I'm talking...  and this is often done when I'm relaying important information or answering a question that he just asked.
Comparative analogy is completely lost on him.  It's like he doesn't have a BA in English... or write for a living.
He interrupts me - constantly - yet is deeply offended when I interrupt him...  even when he is taking an obscenely long pause in between his sentences.  I am not the only person who notices his long pauses, many of his friends have commented on them as well.  The problem I face is that he interrupted me and I'm going to forget what I wanted to say so as soon as I get an opening I shove it in there.  When he gets mad and says he wasn't done, I tell him I wasn't done either and he should have let me finish before he started...

Deeply apologetic.
Which would mean a whole lot more if the disrespect weren't constant and completely unnoticed.

You'd think, all these years together and all these times I've called him out that he'd at least be putting some effort in, or that he'd have made some improvement...  but nope.  Not at all.
I, however, am growing less and less tolerant of it every day...
...and somehow this is starting to be a problem.

So he's in a work meeting in the dining room...  even though he has an office in his man cave with a big fancy desk he bought that he never uses...  and because he has to talk loud and our house is small...  he may as well be here in the room with me.  Gods forbid I get those dishes done...  but yesterday he worked from home and when I came home from my late shift at work and stood there doing all the dishes he was super apologetic for not doing them...  and tonight, when I was pissed off about something he had the gall to ask me if there was anything he could do to help...  while I was standing in front of a sink full to the fucking brim with dirty dishes.

So yeah.
I'm just ready to have him not be in my presence for a couple of days while I work through the lovely perimenopausal PMDD symptoms and rampaging murderer and happy girl child.  But he wants to get "frisky" tonight...  like I'm a fucking puppy.