Man I hear ya!
My SO is great, he really is, he loves me, puts up with the zoo we have here (six cats, two dogs, and a hamster), works very hard, and tries his best to make sure I have a safe and reliable car to get to work and back every day.
However, I think the whole corner of the kitchen that houses the garbage can is completely invisible to him. Never mind that he has to walk past the can to get to the microwave (his savior). Pop bottles, random boxes, bags, paper, etc. It's all strewn around the can on the floor, and covering the countertop next to the can. If he needs to use the microwave, he pushes the mountain of garbage out of the way, and then claims he never saw it. However, usually after six or seven reminders, the trash does get taken out. I still have to put a new bag in though, he can't seem to remember that part either.
He doesn't change the litter box (claims it makes him sick and gag), doesn't feed the dogs (although if he's in a particularly good mood, he'll grab the bowls for me), and forgets that my desk is not a garbage can for his crap. All of those twinkie wrappers somehow end up on my computer, and I know I'm not the one leaving them there.
The lawn gets to be three feet tall before it's mowed, although I will concede that it eventually does get mowed, with me prodding behind him with a stick.
He works second shift right? So he leaves before I get home from work. Every day, without fail, I find the bathroom light on. Every day.
TP tubes get put on top of the holder, never actually on the rolly thing.
Laundry is a foreign concept to him, although, if something really needs washed and I'm not here or I'm not going to do it, he will overcome somehow and get it done.
Sweeping? Vacuuming? Mopping? These are all foreign to him, and must not be attempted. Attempting these dangerous feats will surely kill you, and if not, will definitely maim your manhood in some painful, girly-scream inducing way.
Now, on to the good:
He, like I said, lets me keep the zoo. Despite the fact that Vera's terrified of everything, and poops on the windowsill if you surprise her. Despite the fact that while Brady loves me, if Dave even looks at him he's off like a rocket. Despite the fact that Honey and Cody (the dogs) have relapses in their housebreaking pretty regularly, although I do have to clean it up.
He lets me do what I want, when I want. If I want ice cream at 11 o'clock, he'll go out with me to get some. If I want to go to the zoo, then by golly, we're going to the zoo.
He tries so hard to get me a car that I actually enjoy driving, and keeps it safe and reliable for me.
He works ten hours a day, holding a ten million pound circular grinder, in a 900 degree metal tank, whilst wearing a rubber suit, five days a week, to help pay for the menagerie of pets and our home.
Although he doesn't pick up after himself like I'd like, and the bathtub looks like a nuclear warzone after he's done with it every night, he works so hard for what we have, and I'm so thankful for him because of that. I wouldn't be able to support what we have on my own, and without his support and love, I don't know what I'd do!
Sorry it's so long, I've kind of had an epiphany these last couple of weeks and have started appreciating him a lot more for the stuff he does do, rather than the stuff he doesn't.