What happens is...the minute she leaves for work, I fart, poop, clip my toenails, blow my nose and chunk burp. That usually leaves about 7 hours and 30 minutes left in the day. It's not that I don't burp, blow my nose or poop when she's home, I just go about it in a more grandiose fashion when she's gone, I guess. I burp words or phrases really loud, leave the bathroom door open when I go, blow my nose til my ears pop, look up my nostrils for a bat in the cave afterwards...you know, all of it with a certain fanfare I wouldn't normally do in front of her.
Kind of like when I lived alone and I knew my cats in Florida weren't judgmental or anything. (If they were, they never said anything). We had history. I had them from 4 weeks old, and I felt confident my gross stuff didn't bother them. They hung out in the bathroom when I went in to do my business, I scooped their litter box. It was a pretty balanced life, all around. I cleaned up their hairballs & vomit, they watched me puke INTO their litter box, once. We had a certain unspoken pact that developes after 13 years together.
Here in England- The lighter colored boy cat is my wife's cat, Ollie, and the gray fluffy girl cat is Hazel's cat, Lucy. Jem and Hazel scoop the litter box, they do the brushing, and they have their bonds with their cats. I'm just the "outsider" that talks funny and tries to win them over with cat nip and milk drop treats. We haven't developed "the bond" just yet. So, I feel like maybe...just maybe....in true British form, they're still a bit judgey about my gross stuff. ....Can you tell?