Whenever we fold our laundry, Shane has this routine where he absolutely has to take a break from the task at hand to "demonstrate his special folding technique". It's always the same thing over and over again, and by now, I know better than to whine when he's wasting time. So I suck it up each time and wait patiently as he pretends as if he's folding something, only to crumble it up and throw it into the air. What follows is a "Ta-daa!" with the body language of how did you like my magic trick?.
Which is why I should have seen this coming:
Me: "That's not how you fold the t-shirts. The final product needs to be a rectangle, not a square."
Shane: "Fine! Show me once again."
Me, demonstrating: "First, you fold it in half. Then you fold the sleeves in. And then, you fold in half once again. Ta-daaa!"
Shane, replicating: "Okay so first, I fold it in half. Then, I summon the devil. I sell my soul to him, and then, he folds my clothes for me. Ta-daa!" (At which he crumbled the t-shirt and threw it up into the air)
This is why nothing ever gets done in this house.