I Hate It When ...

I hate it when...

1. I yearn for a holiday, get some time off, then stress about how to spend it. After two weeks of winding myself up about how to spend my time off, I go back to work exhausted and wishing for another holiday so I can do what I should've done on the holiday just ended. So much for winding down.

2. I'm queued up at the supermarket checkout and someone pushes their trolley into the back of my ankles. And does it more than once, then when you turn around, they're conveniently looking elsewhere.

3. I'm being served at the 12 items or less checkout and someone shuffles up so close I can smell their armpits. This happened to me a few weeks ago and after glaring at the boundary crosser with no good result, I shuffled sideways and nearly sent her flying. I still can't put my finger on the scent either; maybe sweat and Rexona.

4. I go to the self serve checkout and after scanning a couple of items, the bloody thing says "please remove item from bagged area". THERE'S NOTHING IN THE BAGGED AREA. But even after "removing" the phantom item in the bagged area, it asks me to remove it again. So I repeat the whole process to no avail except to make me look like a weirdo, then it comes up with "please seek assistance". Thank you, I will. But the "assistance" comes in the form of an annoyed staff member who, by the look on her face, really has better things to do with her time. And who also can't find the offending item in the bagged area.

On that, why is it that supermarket staff who patrol the self serve checkouts seem more cranky and intolerant than those manning two measley checkouts with queues stretching to Uranus??

5. I go into the supermarket at the busiest time of day, and only one checkout is open, the self serve is bulging at the seams (patrolled by abovementioned cranky staff member) and the 12 items or less checkout has a queue stretching, this time, to Pluto. I feel so sorry for supermarket staff! How they keep a smile on their faces is beyond my comprehension, and I make sure to say something that will keep that smile on their face, trust me. This way, I manage to circumvent my irritation and annoyance by realising that someone else is worse off than me. If I were behind the checkout, I'd be guilty of mass murder or possibly a very vocal and very messy, suicide.

6. On 5. above, it's upsetting on the very rare occasions when I do say something positive and cheery to a beleaguered checkout person and end up with them looking at me like I have two heads with snakes coiled on both, or that I'm so incredibly stupid they can't believe what they're hearing. I guess my supposed faux pas will make good dinner time conversation when they eventually drag their exhausted, sorry bottoms home. I hope their cat is a good listener.

7. I'm driving down my road -- which is long, windy and not too safe -- and I'm behind an elderly person driving thus: 60 kilometres per hour (kph) or less, when the road is 80 kph all the way along it, and said elderly person insists on weaving all over the road, then sitting in the middle of it when we get to the only spot on the long, windy road where safe overtaking can happen. Then they move back to our side of the road and continue putting and weaving at 50-60kph. I hate to think how annoyed the drivers of the other two cars and the truck behind me would be if I'm anything to go by.

What is incredible though, is after all this carry on, we eventually get to the turn off to the Highway, and said elderly person who has weaved and putted for 8 kilometres, shoots on to the highway like a cannonball and drives ramrod straight at more than the 100kph speed limit. Then Idiot - meaning me - decides to get in to the overtaking lane and the old coot puts their foot down even more. Good God, what is with that?? Here was I, in the midst of my irritation, wondering if maybe this driver was ill or had some other problem, and they're driving like Ayrton Senna!

8. Toilet paper annoys the crap out of me (figuratively and literally). My reasons for this are not all that varied, but still, they're enough to set my teeth on edge. Here's why: I approach the toilet paper aisle with fear and trepidation. I don't know what to get! I look at what's on special. Kleenex (my favourite) is on special today. Lemme see...12 rolls for $4.99. That's pretty good. Oh wait, there's Quilton on special too! 12 rolls for $3.99, and Sorbent $4.99 FOR 18 ROLLS. But I like Kleenex best. Kleenex is 3-ply and longer. But Quilton's good too and a dollar cheaper. Sorbent may be cheaper, but it's got nasty these days. Oh, and what's this new brand I haven't heard of? 8 rolls for $1.99...

See what I mean? I can't make up my mind, and I also can't consult my cheeks to see what their preference is due to potential public embarrassment, so after half an hour of irritation, tears welling in my frustrated eyes and juggling Kleenex, Sorbent, Unknown and Quilton packs from hand to hand, I make my choice. Then proceed to the checkout area (and go through the whole rigmarole of boundary crossing, cranky staff at the self serve, etc).

Once home I place my loo rolls on my loo roll holder (my loo roll holder is actually a towel rail and it holds five rolls. FIVE). Now all is well if I've brought home Kleenex. However, if I've brought home another brand of toilet paper, then comes my next irritation with the stuff: Unrolling the roll. Why is it that toilet roll manufacturers insist on sticking down the beginning bit of the roll to the extent where half the roll is gone before it actually starts rolling?? Prior to that, it comes off in shreds and falls all over my recently cleaned toilet floor causing that familiar throb in my temples and my teeth to start gnashing. (Quilton never used to be like that, but it is now I've noticed. And it's got thinner.)

Once I've got the roll rolling I feel better. Until one or two of my cats comes in. I have to sit and roll the toilet paper up so none hangs down otherwise...well, you can guess the rest. On that, don't you just love the look of pure evil on a cat's face when he/she leaps up to the loo roll? It's like the Exorcist revisited.

9. On the topic of cats, I have three who are each six months old. They are very affectionate pussies for which we're very grateful. However, our young trio being smoochy and snuggly means that our sleep is often disturbed. For example, at around 2am, our little Chucky (a grey swirly tabby) likes to sit in the middle of us and lick our noses, chins and lips. Or, as happened the other morning -- a bit later than 2am thank God -- I slowly came out of my sleep stupor to a soft sensation on my left cheek. It was Chucky curled up in the middle of us stroking me ever so gently on the cheek. I forgot to mention that he purrs like a lawn mower, and dribbles. We love you Chucky, but please let us sleeeep!!!

Our little girl Luci -- a beautiful calico - likes to leap about between the two of us purring loudly, licking us, getting comfy then deciding to get up again, wandering around in circles and doing that thing cats do with paws and claws, generally disturbing our sleep/tv watching/reading until she makes up her mind and stays still. Then she has to show further affection by placing her paws on our chests, necks, arms, or wherever is bare, with her claws extended just so. Oh yes, then the little biatch goes to sleep while we're left lying there staring at the ceiling, too loved and irritated to sleep/watch tv/read.

Then there's Tig, who is our resident ginger cat. He stays away for most of the night, then when everyone's nearly asleep, he does an almighty leap on to the bed, skips from my chest to my partner's, then snuggles up on his side of the bed. He insists on being there every night. Poor Dwain can't get comfortable as he has the other two cats in between him and me, Tig snuggled under his armpit and our small dog Benji curled up between his feet.

As incredibly sweet, lovely and heart warming as this is, it's still annoying. I spend most days with my eyes hanging out on stalks. Dwain can't remember his own name. We catch nanny naps when we can, and sometimes dread bedtime. But we love our cats and hope that soon, our sleep deprivation will ease once our cute little bunch settles down and becomes a wee bit more mature and lazy. Like the dog.

10. Running out of cold water in the fridge. We keep a jug and a glass bottle of water in the fridge during those steamy summer months. Unfortunately, the bottle gets served out with dinner of an evening, and unless it's drunk down to nothing, it's put back in the fridge. And who's the lucky one who goes to get a drink of cold water the next day? Me. And as usual, there's only an inch of water in the bottle. On checking the jug, it's in the same condition. My frustration knows no bounds. I'm thirsty and the water out of the tap is warm. I'm so angry I could squeal and I know who to blame; when I see her in the mirror next, she's going to be black, blue and bleeding. And still thirsty.

11. Stubbing my toe. One of the things that bring tears to my eyes, loud expletives from out of my mouth and causes rather strange, John Cleese-like movements, is stubbing a toe. Like most of us, I've stubbed my toes on door frames, cupboard doors, steps, etc., and every time it feels like someone put those items there deliberately just so I can stub my toe on one of them. It's so unexpected, so unforeseen and always happens right when I don't need it. But then, how does one prepare for stubbing a toe? It's not possible, so the shock is always monumental, along with the pain.

Interestingly, the worst "toe" incident I ever had was in my younger days after a fair bit of alcohol. I was running through a doorway barefoot and managed to stub my middle toe. Well, I actually broke it, but didn't realise the extent of the injury until the next day when my toe was a funny shade of black, had swollen to twice its original size, and I couldn't put a shoe on it. I had to hitch-hike all the way home to my parents' house with my throbbing head and throbbing toe in a sock, which took hours. Dad took me to the doctor the next day who pronounced it broken. I was told to go home and not do anything. I was like an old person for a few days, hobbling around, using a walking stick, keeping my foot elevated (don't know why I had to do that) and generally sticking to what the good Dr ordered. The toe eventually healed on its own, though it took weeks before I could put a shoe on without pain. I learned my lesson after that: When inebriated, don't run. Or at least have steel capped boots on. One thing I was grateful for though, was that I didn't suffer the usual shock, pain and frustrated tears from stubbing my toe sober.

12. Sitting down to type up all those things in life that annoy the heck out of me, but can't remember one. I know what you're thinking: SHE'S WRITTEN OODLES. Trust me people, I had to leave the computer, distance my mind from all things potentially irritating and annoying and do things that calmed my soul, to actually be reminded of anything that came under the category of annoying. That annoyed me on its own really; a bit like walking into a room and forgetting why I'm there.

13. On that, I often seem to walk into our bedroom with great purpose, only to get in there and completely forget why I did (I'm a bit perplexed as to why it's always the bedroom too, but I digress). I get so frustrated with this that my head starts to throb again, I want to cry, because I've got better things to do than hang around purposeless, and then, in the middle of my forgetful angst, I notice the room needs dusting. So I leave the room to get a cloth and spray, then forget why I left. In order to preserve my failing sanity, I give up and sit down with a crossword. Once I'm almost comfy, I remember why I went into our bedroom in the first place. (Its usually because my feet are cold and I couldn't possibly settle down and do a crossword with cold feet). Back to the bedroom I go to grab some socks, then notice the room needs dusting. The crossword gets done another day. And my feet are still cold.

14. Auto-Correct. There are times I could happily slap Mr Auto-Correct fair in the vernacular because he corrects words that don't need correcting. Like the word "bugger". I was typing up a Facebook status a few weeks ago and typed bugger, which got auto-corrected to bugging. I ask you Mr Auto-stuck-up-yourself-Correct, how does it make sense to write that one had a hard day and was feeling "bugging"?? (This may apply to Facebook only, because I can't see a squiggly red line under "bugger", can you?)

15. I also use abbreviations, but not often, mind. Still, if I wish to use "atm" for "at the moment" or "btw" for "by the way" I will. Why oh why does Mr Auto-Correct-Neverwrong insist on capitalising atm (hang on, just backspacing) or btw to better?? I've noticed that "lol" is never corrected, nor is LOL. If one types lol in lower case or capitalised, it stays that way. I think Mr Auto-Correct-Smartypants needs to get with the program. I could fill a book with the amount of irritated expletives I use when posting a Facebook status, let me tell you, especially when I'm doing it on my phone. In his defence though, he has learned that when I type f**k I want it to stay that way. (Out of interest, when I first started typing this instead of the actual swear word, it used to auto-correct it to fink). Mefinks you can educate Mr Auto-Correct on some fings, but not all. (He'll also accept faaaaark. And American Express). Notice that "fings"has remained, with that wiggly red line under it? Dayum! I wanted to see what he'd do with "fings"! And he's left "dayum" alone also. I think the annoying little bugger has gone on strike!

16. Why is it so hard for someone who still has a desktop keyboard speed of 98 words per minute, to type on a bloody phone keyboard?? The backspace key on my phone will soon get permanently depressed from overuse; a bit like me when I recover from being annoyed.

17. I'm on a website and an advertisement comes up bearing a small cross which I presume is meant to close the ad. I press the cross, and I'm whisked off to another website far, far away.

18. Websites that ask for really difficult passwords, ie, a minimum of 8 characters including one capital letter, at least two digits and a special character. What further annoys me is when I use the asterisk as my special character, but it won't accept that. I don't want to use the hash key or the bloody oblique stroke!!! And btw, how am I supposed to remember this incredibly complicated password?!

19. Websites that won't let you read anything unless you sign up.

20. Signing up to a website so I can read things on it, only to end up with constant promotional rubbish in my email inbox, requiring me to unsubscribe.

21. Trying to unsubscribe and I have to jump through a hundred hoops to do so.

22. Trying to think of more things that annoy me and I'm all out. So, because I'm mildly irritated atm, I think it's best to finish this off before I get really, really ANNOYED.

PS: Remember back when Virgin Airlines was Virgin Blue? The planes were red.