Which British household chore do you secretly resent the most?

You know it needs doing. You've known for six months. That crunchy tea isn't going to fix itself.

A mysterious grey blanket of lint you must peel off like a tiny, sad rug every single wash.

Involves a tiny key you've definitely lost, a towel, and the sudden realisation you don't know which room is even cold.

You spray, you wait, you scrub, you weep. The grill pan still looks like it survived a small fire.

Is a pizza box card or compost? Does the lid go with the jar? One wrong move and Barbara next door is watching.