Tuesday, 3 December 2013

wrong side of the bed

I had a serious case of rage yesterday.  Here are some of the assorted items that triggered my ire, trivial as they may seem:
  • The ironing board.  It was all in my living room, up in my face.
  • P asking if I was going to continue with ironing his shirts.  While my hands were plunged in a sinkful of dirty dishes.
  • Dishes.
  • P's thumb, preventing him from doing dishes.
  • P's thumb, making him moan about ironing his shirts.
  • P asking for help with his buttons.
  • P's shoes, on the floor.  EXISTING.
  • P insisting he could use his suitcase if he wanted to, contrary to my wishes.
  • P's face.
  • P.
  • The television remote controls. PLURAL.
  • Eating crap food.
  • Running out of breath mints.
  • People in the lift inconsiderately getting out at floors that weren't mine.
  • People in the lift with halitosis.
  • People on the street dawdling.
  • People.
  • The window decorations at Smith + Caugheys (annoying songs + dopey, creepy puppets)
  • Picking P up from getting his wound redressed.
  • Traffic.
  • Parking.
  • Getting attitude from P about how far away I parked.
  • My pizza getting cold.
I can see now how *rational* I was.  Nothing like the Christmas spirit, aye? 

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