Flattery Will Get You. . . Nowhere

Hubs and I are spending a childless evening de-Christmasing our house. We've been drinking to make the process more enjoyable, but as a result Hubs cannot remember a single instruction I've given him about how to pack things away. 

There are multiple exchanges that are something like this:
Me: What the hell are you doing?
Hubs: Uh. . .
- or -
Me: What did I just tell you?
Hubs: Uh. . . 

And it all culminated with this:

Me: Why is there a gold ornament in the red box?
Hubs: Um... Because you're beautiful?