We live together: you dislike mess more than you dislike cleaning; I dislike cleaning more than I dislike mess. Mess happens: obligate social grooming rears a silent scowling face.
A current account runs to deficit: cogwheels backlash. I could offer you money for doing my part, if I was stupid; or if you were a different species. As you are this is a grave insult: cleaning you undertake yourself is home-making, comfort behaviour, preening, an act conceived in freedom and ease. Receiving money for it makes you a cleaner: low-status. Offering you money called you low status: I signalled superior wealth. Negotiations sour: you don't hear my offer instead to cook, or do the bins. But we are grown men; there must be a solution.
Yes: I skip the lease under cover of night, free-riding the axle of a Scania bound for the orient. In the morning: notes stuffed under your door.