Off the Cuff / My Other Journal

Pet Peeves

I don’t know why we call peeves pets. Pets are fun; peeves aren’t.
Anyway, today’s pet peeves:

People blocking the isles in the supermarket by parking their carts across from the isle and standing on the other side, admiring the boxes, bottles, or whatever as if they are in 1920 watching a movie in the RKO. I just returned from shopping and it wasn’t fun, because I shop from a list and never fool around. My fooling around happens anywhere else but the stores.

Games in FB, constantly sending pop-ups while I am there playing. The worst is the one that says send a free gift to friends. I go there, select, and click, and nada. “You have already sent your gifts for today.” If I already did that, why are you bugging me? Another one is, “get more neighbors.” Some people I hesitate to ask because I know their lives are either already full or they are more serious writers than I am. It is as if they want me to get all the 6 billion people on earth, and all the members of my family. I am not acquainted with all the people on earth, and from what I have seen lately, some can get pretty violent. Then, most of the members of my extended family do not like FB, and neither do my kids. I am the only black sheep who likes play more than work. For the same reason, I like writing because I play with it.

People who flaunt stuff with vulgar writing on them. Yesterday we were out at lunch. A guy had a cap on with the rim turned from front to back, so the people who sat at the tables around could see the writing on it. On the hat, it was written: "Trojan Condoms"
Gross!!! Plus, such a wrong place to wear those.
And this is a restaurant in a town with a lot of elderly population.
And my chair faced him. Why me!

But my worst peeves are not about other people. They are about me.
To start with: on both sides of my computer, all the pieces of paper on my desk that are waiting to be sorted and put away. They have been waiting for over two weeks now.
The half drunk tea in the teacup that I always forget to finish.
The reheated coffee forgotten inside the microwave.
Half finished stories.
Tons of first drafts I never fix, but I go on and write new ones anyway.
The soup I sometimes do not remember to put back in the fridge because of waiting for it to cool down, then forgetting all about it.

I better stop here before I really drive me crazy. In comparison to me, FB, people wearing stuff with weird writing, or people blocking supermarket lanes should wear halos.