Pet Peeves

Here is a list of my pet peeves, and other things that make me angry.
In no particular order.
Not inclusive.
Consider this your first warning.

• Bad grammar
• Tapping fingers on a desk or table
• "Cammo" as a fashion statement
• When people tell me something I already know
• Using the word "y'all" more than once in a sentence.  (really, using it at all bothers me, but I'm trying to be reasonable because I live in Alabama...)
• When people tell me I'm a yankee because I grew up in St. Louis
• When people suggest that I do something I am already in the process of doing
• When people are fans of a college sports team, and they have never attended said college
• Unwarranted advice
• Putting emphasis on the incorrect syllable of the word "guitar" (GIT-ahr instead of gi-TAHR)
• Arrogance
• When people pretend the know more than they really do instead of just asking a question
• When people won't answer a question
• When I am mistaken for a student, or a teenager
• Micromanaging
• When people haven't read the book, but they still go to see the movie
• When people find out I'm a musician and feel the need to inform me of their experience playing the clarinet or flute in middle school band
• Small talk
• Lists of pet peeves

The Doctor's Office

I went to the doctor today with a list of problems, and I got prescribed a list of medications, shots, and blood tests.  What fun. (sarcasm)
This, dear friends, is why I feel uncomfortable going to the doctor: I'm afraid I'm a hypochondriac.
Sure, I've been experiencing dizziness, headaches, shortness of breath, aching joints and muscles, sore throat, tiredness, chest pains, acne, and a myriad of other ailments.  But, I'm afraid if I say something, and they don't find anything wrong, then I'm just being a Nervous Neville and I need to chill.  On the other hand, what if I have some crazy disease, and I don't say anything?  Then, I die a tragic and preventable death.
All that being said, I really hope the doctor finds something wrong in my blood tests.  I know that sounds absurd, but I'd rather there actually be something wrong with me than realizing that all my symptoms are psychosomatic.

So, now I have a new bedtime routine to account for some nasal spray and acne cream.  I'm not so sure about this nasal spray, because I feel like I'm choking on my own spit.  I hope I get used to it soon!

My Commitment Issue

Cutting up curtains to hem them is a big commitment.  What if I mess up?  What if I like them better long?  What if I want to use them for another, longer window one day?  I just don't think I'm ready for that.
Other things I'm not ready to commit to:

• a man
• a city to live in forever
• a pet (other than my fish named Edward, he's usually fine without much help from me.)
• the stock market
• keeping a journal (or blogging for that matter, let's see how long this lasts)
• exercise
• eating healthy (which means cutting out junk)
• anything that involves giving up cheese
• a tattoo
• piercings
• nail polish (it never comes all the way off)
• hair cuts or colors
• reading the Game of Thrones series (because let's face it, if I read one, I'll read them all)
• buying things in bulk (even though I love my new Costco membership)
• buying groceries (because that means I have to prepare food)
• buying frozen foods (because I have to go straight home from the store)
• starting a new TV show on Netflix (because I might binge watch and I just don't have time)
• I could really go on, but it was hard enough to even commit to making this list...

Just imagine what it will be like when I have to drill the holes to hang the curtain rods.  I'll keep you updated.

IKEA

I went to IKEA today, and now I have to eat PB&J for the next two months.
The curtains I bought are too long for my windows, so I need to hem them.  Anyone have a sewing machine?
Also, I bought a piece of art that reminds me of my fish named Edward.

My Fish Named Edward

I have a fish named Edward.  He is my only dependent.  Basically, I don't have to worry about taking care of anyone but me, except my fish named Edward, but he's usually fine without me.  But we're friends.

There's a funny story behind the way Edward got his name.  When I first brought him home from the pet store, I left him in his cup while I prepared the bowl of water for him, all the while thinking of potential names.  When the water was ready for him, I used my fishnet to try to get him out of his cup.  Edward didn't like the fishnet (like most fish), and he proceeded to swim away from it every time I tried to get him.  In my last attempt to scoop him out, he flopped out of the cup and onto the windowsill.  I screamed.  A lot.  And I don't really remember what happened next, except that I screamed, "No!  Edward!!"  It was a very traumatic experience, and poor Edward swam straight to the bottom of the bowl and didn't move for a few hours when I finally got him safe.  I think he was scared of me for a few weeks, but once he figured out that I give him food, he decided to trust me.

And that's how Edward got his name.