Why I can't write when my honey's home

Him: Do we have any wrapping paper?
Me:  In that box in the living room.
Him:  What box?
Me: That box of Christmas stuff.
Him:  What box?
Me:  That big box in the middle of the floor that's normally not there and looks like Christmas exploded inside it.
Him: (a minute later) I can't find it.
Me: It's there. Look.
Him: I can't find it. I'll just use the newspaper. 
Me: (goes into the living room, finds it in two seconds) 

Him: Are you making coffee?
Me: No, tea. Do you want coffee?
Him: I'll have some if you're making it.
Me: I'm making tea. Do you want coffee?
Him: No. Yes, if you're making it.
Me: I just need to boil water and grind beans. Do you want some?
Him: No. Yes.
Me:  *sigh*

Him: Where's the mayonnaise?
Me:  In the fridge. Blue lid.
Him: I can't find it.
Me:  Blue lid, top shelf.
Him:  It's not here.
Me: I'm going to come out and find it in two seconds. Watch.
Him: It's not here.
Me: If I find it, you owe me a million dollars.
Him: Fine.
Me: (finds it in two seconds, does not yet have million dollars)

Him:  What are you doing after your shower?
Me: Maybe writing awhile. Why?
Him: Don't come out of the bathroom until I say so.
Me: Why?
Him: It's a surprise.
Me: (after shower) Can I come out now? (peeks around corner, sees roses, wine, chocolate, and a card on the bed) Oooooo! *happy sigh*

This is why I can't write when he's home.