Why Mr Brown is my Favourite

Or some of the reasons anyway....
I came over all sick at work yesterday and he drove in, collected me & drove me home. He also changed the sheets on the bed, to the really nice 100% cotton thick-like-hotel sheets, so I could have clean sheets. I LOVE clean sheets, they smell great, they feel great and they fill me with an enormous sense of well being.
2. He opened the only bottle of Rockford Black Shiraz, sparkling, we had to drink with dinner and Fridaynightcrimeonetheabc last night. And served it in my favourite bubble flutes, the ones with bubbles! (Not the basketpress though, I don't suppose he'll ever rip the cork out of those).

3. Just the other day he excitedly called me outside to see this.It's the biggest bee we've ever seen. Two, perhaps three, times the size of an ordinary (read feral european) honey bee. And so fat and fuzzy. I think he may be another type of Australian native bee, a teddy bear bee - Amegilla (Asaropoda). He fits the description and it would be so toetelly kewel if we had two types of native bees living at our house.
4. He painted the little hall for me, bright honeycomb yellow, like the big one. I love it, most cheery to wander through. And he put up picture rails from which I can hang pictures. One of said pictures is a framed poster of the Regents Park & Primrose Hill, drawn by one of Spindle Shanks's big sisters (the one who stepped in on our behalf when we got caught being very norty indeed). The others are three teeny wee prayer mat limited edition etchings by Vida Pearson which I bought (seriously depleting my rent money) when living in Ballarat, oooh, a very long time ago (pre-Mr Brown even).

5. I just know that this is going to make him larf until stuff comes out his nose! (why would you even think of going to heaven if there were no furries?).

It is for these reasons (and many others) that I can forgive him his ability to eat sufficient chocolate to keep a small country running without getting fat and why I don't kick him out of bed for farting (though, to be honest, I do make a fuss about it, I just don't throw him out).