Me and cleaning, and other house chores, have a weird relationship. I inherited my grandma's fastidious streak, but I don't like chipping away at chores a bit at a time; That feels like an endless struggle. I tend to let chores of a kind build up until I can tackle them all in one go, and get a sense of accomplishment. Maybe it's something about having a noticeable difference before and after?
I don't really decorate either. My room is pretty Spartan; I sleep on a pile of fleeces and throw blankets I make every night, and stow in the morning... surprisingly comfortable! My walls are bare but for bookshelves and cupboards (I got rid of a lot of decorative things in my last few moves), but I like to collect little knick knacks for my desk and bookshelf; a rocket-shaped lava lamp, a little origami crane, an analogue clock with two fez-wearing monkeys (I got it from a mysterious and possibly crazy old woman at a bazaar), a stuffed Pine Martin toy, a giant phantom quartz crystal (has little ghosts of smaller crystal facets inside it, from when it initially formed), a functional antique microscope, and a little rocket ship lava lamp, to name a few.
When making food for myself, I almost always cook based on
Specific Appetite. I trust my body to know what it needs about 80% of the time, and try to make meals based on that. When cooking for other people, I tend to like experimenting either with a classic recipe of some sort, or experimenting within some arbitrary Iron Chef style ingredient limitations. Recent experiments include finding out how to cook an orange, which I ended up making into a fried rice with ginger, cashews, and hoisin, as well as an extremely eggy chocolate pancake-bread I invented because I had only a bit of flour left, and it was way too cold and snowy a morning to go to the store.
I suspect I'd make a crappy house husband for someone, but I'm apparently a pretty good roommate! Either that, or I've just been lucky so far.