My Little Pretties

The other day I took a little quiz on facebook and then sent it to my oldest girl. One of the questions was: Do you have any pet peeves? I answered that I had too many to count. Ella answered, "My only pet peeve is people who have pet peeves ~~ stop complaining!" She is so right. I complain about way too many things. I have pet peeves about people using the same names for their kids as I do (just kidding ~~ I am totally over it Stacey ~~ it was just the shock of it all!), spelling errors in books, people who complain about how people do their callings at church (hey, would you like to do everything?), open cupboards, someone saying they will come work on my house, but then don't come, people I don't even know bossing me around by waving me through an intersection (no, you go, it's your turn, let's just follow the rules of the road, okay?), how most places only have diet drinks with caffeine in them ~~ hmm, maybe that is it. I can only think of one more and it needs some introduction. There seems to be road construction going on all over our town. I wondered how there could possibly be enough workers to be maintaining all of these construction sites, but have since decided that there is really only one crew who just wanders around closing random roads at any given time. So! Main Street has been scraped down before being repaved and I get to cross Main Street several times a day. It is 1 inch, maybe 2 inches, lower than the cross streets. Do you have the visual? My absolute most favorite thing is to be behind a huge SUV, the kind made for crazy off-road stunts, the gas-hogging, gotta have my truck, smoke-belching, beast and have it cross Main Street going 1.mile.per.hour. Oh my gracious! It is a little tiny bump people! I bet you could go 3 mph. That way we could all make it through before the light turns red again. There you have it. It's going to give me an ulcer.

Pet peeve is such an interesting notion. The idea that you are taking your irritations and treating them like a little pet. Picking them up to stroke, coddle, and coo in their ears, "There, there, my pretty. I will feed you and nurture you so that you can grow from a mere annoyance and nuisance into full-fledged torment." Ooh, horrible. I need to take my daughter's advice to stop complaining and just relax. Yeah right, it's probably not going to happen. It would be nice, though.