Everyone has them.
Something that annoys you to the point of throwing something,
breaking something, or throwing something at someone ELSE.
I was reminded of one of my "pet peeves" last night.
It woke me up, somewhere around the 4:00 hour.
That LICKING sound that is barely audible, but enough so, to drive me INSANE!
I am, of course, referring to my dog, Charlie (speaking of pets).
He likes to lick.
He licks himself, he licks his blanket, he licks the carpet, he licks his people.
This very second, in fact, he is licking my purse, that is lying on the floor next to me.
Lick, lick, lick, lick, LICK!
STOP IT, CHARLIE!!!
He is giving me that same look that my children give me when they think I am being unreasonable.
Another one of my pet peeves, that has nothing to do with pets
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . is TEXTING.
It is not so much the ACT of texting, as it is the LOCATION OF THE EXERCISE.
This morning, after I was already feeling irritable
(due to my lack of sleep),
I treated myself to a trip to Starbucks.
The "licking dog" was with me, so I opted for the drive-thru.
The line was fairly long, and I was in no hurry,
but the lady in front of me was not paying attention,
leaving large G A P S between her and the car in front of her.
SHE WAS TOO BUSY TEXTING.
After not moving up the first time, I mumbled to myself.
The second time, I mumbled to my dog.
The third time, I envisioned myself shouting out my window,
" STOP TEXTING AND MOVE UP! "
. . . . . . . or something like that.
Instead, I tapped on the horn.
Just a little "wake-up and pay attention" tap.
Not the "LAYING ON THE HORN BECAUSE YOU ARE DRIVING ME INSANE" tap.
She slowly moved up, then went back to her texting.
THAT was effective, I thought.
The line moved up again.
And, AGAIN . . . . . . . . . .she stayed put.
TOO BUSY TEXTING.
Right when I had my hand on the door handle, ready to walk up and confront her
...............................she moved up to the pick-up window.
While I will admit, I was slightly relieved ( the thought of a confrontation
made me less than comfortable ),
I was also disappointed, because I wanted her to know what an annoyance she had been.
Instead, I settled for an imaginary conversation, inside my head.
She moved on, unphased, and it was my turn at the window.
I picked up my grande, skim latte, and placed it in the cup holder of my car.
As I turned my head to thank the Starbucks employee,
the "dog who likes to lick"
. . . . . . . licked the lid to my coffee.
CHAR - LIE ! ! !
He's a dog.
At least HE has an excuse.