One pet peeve that shouldn’t drive you crazy, but does.
I’m a confusing person. There are things I don’t care about at all that I should care about, like the fact there are at least 10 empty Starbucks Frappuccino bottles bouncing around in my car or the Cheerio I dropped under my desk just out of reach that just chills there, making it look like a toddler lives in my cubicle. No, those things don’t bother me at all.
Then there are those pet peeves that shouldn’t bother me but instead turn me into a crazy person.
We have a dishwasher at my house. There are two of us and really, not many dishes, so we don’t have to run it that often. It stays relatively empty — empty enough that there is always room for an extra glass or small plate. Every few days we run it and the cycle starts again. The magic dishwasher fairy stops by, unloads the dishwasher, puts dirty dishes that are in the sink into the empty dishwasher and sprinkles magic fairy dust all over the kitchen so it stays spotless.
But there’s a small problem. There is no such thing as the magic dishwasher fairy. That dishwasher fairy is me. I’m the one who loads and unloads. I’m the one who takes the dishes out of the sink. The dishwasher fairy is dead.
The pet peeve here is that I can’t STAND having dishes in the sink. I’d rather put the dishes on the counter beside the sink. Our sink is a little tiny baby sink. Not even, because its’ so small a baby wouldn’t even fit in it. Two or three dishes? It’s completely full. And then if you have to turn on the water, it just stops up in the sink because, oh look, there is a dish covering the drain. All that leftover food and stale, room temperature water combine to make my life a living hell. In fact, that’s what my version of hell would be: a sink with never-ending dirty dishes.
My other pet peeve drives my husband crazy. I’m very — how do I say this nicely about myself? — particular about my bed sheets. Actually, I’m completely crazy about everything that has to do with my sleeping arrangement. I need to have the sheets even and pulled up before I get in. I’ve been known to make the bed only to *unmake* the bed and get in. My pillow case has to be straight. The comforter has to be pulled down and folded just so at the end of the bed. EVERYTHING HAS TO BE TUCKED IN. If I know the corner of the fitted sheet has somehow slid off the mattress, I can’t rest until it’s fixed. It doesn’t even have to be on my side of the bed for the anxiety to set in — as long as I know there is a wee bit ‘o mattress showing, my brain goes haywire.
The other day we watched a show where the host was staying in a hostel in Brazil. he was given a bed with a dirty, stained mattress and no sheets. That’s my worst nightmare. I’d rather sleep on the floor with a blanket than on a stained mattress with no sheets.
Hub has a habit of eating in bed. I can’t stand it because eating = crumbs. A little snack of cheese and crackers while he watches some TV before bed leads to 15 minutes of me with a lint roller wiping every minuscule crumb out of the area. “What’s wrong with one or two crumbs? You wont’ even feel them. It’s no big deal,” he says. What he doesn’t understand is that I’m like the Princess and the Pea, but with crumbs. And I have the uncanny ability to find the tiniest crumb and get angsty about it.
You’d think after almost four years of marriage, he’d learn. Sometimes I think he just really enjoys watching me tug on the sheets maniacally and kicks them off on purpose.
I’m on to you, Hub.
What are your pet peeves? I bet they have something to do with your significant other. Discuss!
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