Pet peeves are dangerous things. If you don’t have any, your humanity is called into question. If you react too strongly when they are committed against you? Well then, you enter through fiery gates into the realm of Witchy-ness. In which case, you are either called one to your face or just plain labeled one behind your back.
In the interest of full disclosure, I’m willing to cop to a few.
Like all good pet peeves, they make absolutely no sense. Why, for instance, does my head want to explode when someone talks to me while I’m brushing my teeth? Silly reaction, right? Yet every single time I feel my blood pressure rise, the inevitable snarly response poised on the tip of my tongue. . .“Why the hell are you asking me that NOW? Can’t you see I’m busy? It’s not like I can answer you with a mouth full of Colgate.”
Okay, I’ll admit, I almost always take a deep breath, swallow the snarl (along with the toothpaste) and sanity prevails. But, honestly. A little privacy please.
Another that drives me nuts is the absence of soap in the shower. The last thing I need when I’m rushing in the morning is to get in there and find I don’t have the necessary tools to get the job done. The second last thing I need is the arctic chill when I get out, dripping puddles of water on the floor (which, you guess it, I have to clean up later or suffer a cracked skull when I slip on the way to my closet) and fumble to get a new bar out of a box that never wants to give up the goods. My DH is a habitual offender in the soap department. He’s since learned what it looks like when my head explodes and does it less. Thank you Lord.
So, what drives you past crazy into the red-zone? Share, please. I want to feel like I’m normal.