10 (really random) Things That I Can't Stand
As I made my way to the kitchen to tidy up after putting the boys to bed and to indulge in a late night snack, I found myself silently complaining about not 1, not 2, but 3 things in the span of 10 minutes. "Wow" I thought "I'm almost one-third of the way through what could be my next 10 Things Tuesday post". So, here you go:
10 (really random) Things I Can't Stand
Walking around the house without socks and feeling crumbs underfoot. Ew.I am not particularly fond of sweeping, BUT, as soon as I feel a crumb out comes the broom or vacuum.
Retrieving ANYTHING from the garbage disposal. There is nothing more gross than sticking your hand through the rubber ring into the dark unknown of the disposal and swishing it around to see what-the-hell is making that awful metal on metal grinding noise. Worse still is the back and forth - flip switch, still awful noise, turn off, stick hand in, come up empty, flip switch thinking perhaps it'll be remedied, still awful noise, turn off, stick hand in - and so on and so forth. DIS.GUST.ING. Tonight's culprit - get this - a red plastic nose from the boys' miniature Mr. Potato Head. Ugh.
Scooping ice cream.Seriously, it is the best arm workout I've had all week. Okay, it's the only arm workout I've had all week. But that's beside the point. If ice cream weren't so darn good and if I hadn't of already crushed my 100 calorie pack of mini oreos for a topping, I totally would have skipped this late night nosh.
When my husband eats in bed. More specifically, when I can hear my husband chewing as he is eating in bed. If I'm eating too, then it's fine. But if I've turned in for the night and in he comes with a crinkly wrapper or crunchy snack I go CRAZY. The chewing, the lip smacking, the swallowing. It is the only thing I can hear and it is like nails on a chalk board. I seriously have to either leave the room or hold my head under the pillow.
People who don't use their turn-signal. I am not one to have road-rage issues. But know this...if on the off chance you ever catch me flipping you the bird, it's because you didn't have your blinker on when you turned. Thankyouverymuch.
When my internet won't work. This is insanely frustrating. Hair-pulling-out, want to stab myself in the eyeballs frustrating. I restart my computer. Nothing. I reset my wireless connection. Nothing. I turn off the router, wait 10 seconds and try again. Nothing. Dear poor AT&T rep who answers my call, I apologize in advance. But I also want YOU to figure out how THIS will never happen again.
Ordering pizza.Now hold on, don't get ahead of yourself. I LOVE me some home delivery pizza.
I just hate being the one to call in the order. Probably because it goes down like this...
ME (on phone): Hi I'd like to order...
RICKY (interrupting): Ask them what specials they have.
ME: ...do you have any specials?
PIZZA GUY: 1 large with unlimited toppings for $12.99 (which I repeat out loud)
RICKY: How much for a large with just pepperoni? (which I repeat to the pizza guy)
PIZZA GUY: $18.99 (which Ricky overhears)
RICKY: $18.99??? Are you kidding me? So let me get this straight, I can order a large pizzawith unlimited toppings for $12.99 but if I just want pepperoni, it's $6 more?
PIZZA GUY (totally unsympathetic and bored by this conversation): Yeah.
RICKY: That is horse-shit. Do you realize that makes no sense?
ME: Do you want the pizza or not?
RICKY: Order the damn pizza. But tell them I want 6 layers of pepperoni.
ME (embarrassed): I'll take the special. The toppings...6 layers of pepperoni.
PIZZA GUY: That'll be $18.00.
RICKY: Are you effing kidding me? What happened to $12.99?
PIZZA GUY: $3 delivery charge and tax.
RICKY: What a rip off. Forget it Taryn. Hang up.
20 minutes of my life I'll never get back. And the sad thing is, the same exact conversation transpires EACH and EVERY time we attempt to order a pizza. It depends on Ricky's mood whether or not the pizza ordering is actually successful. It is exhaustingly predictable. And just plain exhausting.
When out to eat, being able to see the kitchen from the table. It's really a double-edged sword. Sure, you'd like to think that being able to see the cooks make the food you're about to eat would ensure extra hygiene and careful preparation. But then I spend too much time eyeballing their every move, every cough, every time they push their hair out of their face with their hands. It totally grosses me out. So yes, I'd much prefer to keep that out of my sight so I can pretend none of the yuckiness even exists at all.
When the kids are stuck to me like magnets. While I love me some snuggle time, it's the rest of the time, when I REALLY value my personal space (like at the end of a particularly long day), that they seem to want to cling to me. They climb on me like a jungle gym, push their elbow into my chest to sit up and move around, accidentally grab my hair. It feels as if they have little razor blades for hands and it makes me want to scream. And then...AND THEN...once they are tucked into bed and I head to ours, Ricky makes HIS move. On those days I'd rather pull stuff out of the garbage disposal. Sorry babe.
Bad grammar. Or is it poor grammar? Hmmm...
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