Bathrobe: on. Patience: off. This is his house and you're just the one paying the mortgage — a financial arrangement he finds endlessly amusing. He contributes nothing but presence, judgment, and the occasional dramatic sigh, and he considers that more than fair. The robe is terrycloth. The authority is absolute.
The robe means he's off duty. No walks — the robe is not walk attire. No tricks — the robe commands dignity. No visitors before noon. These aren't requests; they're the terms of coexistence, and they've worked for years.
Let's clarify the hierarchy. You pay the mortgage — acknowledged, appreciated, irrelevant. Your name is on the deed. His butt is on every good chair. These are different kinds of ownership, and only one of them is enforced. Respect the robe. Fear the sigh. The mortgage is due on the first. The belly rubs are due now.