Monday, August 23, 2010

It's the little things

I hate when people use my bath towel to dry their hands.
If I find even the tiniest damp spot when I go to use it, I'll take a new one.

I hate finding the cover of the toothbrush open.
We have one of those Oral-B electric toothbrushes with the shared heads. Scott sometimes doesn't close the top and it skeeves me out thinking that when you flush the toilet, piss-mist flies up and coats the brushes. YUCK.

I hate getting stuff stuck to my bare feet. Or sock feet. Or shoes.
Looks like I generally hate getting stuff stuck to my feet in general. This even goes for beach sand.

I hate waiting at the checkout.
I will walk miles all over a department store trying to find the shortest line. I will leave a line the second they pick up the phone for a price check. I've been known to buy milk, bread and clothes at the jewellry counter.

I hate forgetting people's names.
But that doesn't stop me from doing it. Well and often.

I hate when my email box is so full that the inbox is on more than one page.
It's just another thing that bugs me. Plus it formats weird on my iPod.

I hate when the Oreo filling is too hard or soft so the cookie doesn't come apart easily.
I will actually put the rest of the cookies I planned to eat back. You know what it's like when you look forward to something and it doesn't work out the way you planned.

I hate when the kids eat "my" stuff. 
Yes, I hide food from them. They tend to unhinge their jaws and just drop food in without it even hitting the sides. Most foods are bought on Saturday and gone by Tuesday. So why on earth would they be allowed to "eat" my delicious, expensive treats?

My grumps will be over in a couple more days, promise. It's just that "female issue" rearing it's head. Again.

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