Hmmmmmmmm

My husband is a big man. And he likes to look at stuff. And he makes contemplative noises while he does so: "Hmmmm. Ummmm. Ehhmmmmm." Despite the fact that he's well over six foot tall, he likes to lurk behind my shoulder and look at what I'm doing - not saying anything, just hmmmmmming. He's very good at lurking - he can effectively block a doorway, hovering between two rooms, dipping in and out of various conversations.
"You're blocking my light," I'll snap.
He blocks my light constantly - and I don't mean in the metaphorical sense, but in the physical where's-the-nearest-source-of-light-so-I-can-plonk-myself-in-front-of-it sense. It drives me bonkers.

So my recent decision to take stock of my cottons afforded me the opportunity to arrange my bright skeins according to colour - so pretty, look at the colours, aren't they nice? - was something that clearly interested him enough to hover nearby and hum. While I was positioning myself over the cotton, camera in hand, waiting for a ray of sunshine to light up the table,  the dark shadow appeared behind me.
"Hmmmmmmmmm."
"Get out of my light, please!"
(side-steps. And blocks light from another angle.)
"Hmmmmmmmmm."
"Get out of my light!"
Minimal movement just outside of my peripheral vision.
"Please! My light!"
And as suddenly as he appeared, my shadow-husband disappeared and I could take my photo.

It could be worse, though. Sometimes he asks questions:
"Why are you doing it like that?" he'll say.
"Why not?"
"Oh, no reason."
"What do you mean - no reason? Is there a better way to do it?"
"The way you're doing it is fine."
"Yes, but is there a better way to do it?"
"I didn't say that."
"But you implied it. Should I do it another way?"
"Not if you don't want to."
"It's not a matter of not wanting to. I just want to do it as efficiently as possible. Is there a better way to do it?"
"To be honest, I don't know. I'm not even sure what you're doing. Hmmmmmmmmm."

God grant me patience.