Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Pardon my Swahili

Little things bother me.  Am I a whiner?  I guess now that I'm writing this blog, I'm coming out of the "whiner's closet" so to speak.  Those of you, dear friends and blog readers, who've come to know me over the years, have most likely become accustomed to my occasional sour moods and dry sense of humor.  Generally speaking; however, I take most things with a grain of salt.  I normally let the silly stuff bounce off me.  I tend to see the humor in situations and will offer up a giggle or smirk when the situation calls for it...BUT there are always a few exceptions.

My husband's jaw clicks when he eats.  Often times I'm so engrossed devouring my own piece of chicken or bag of popcorn that I won't notice this annoyance yet if my mood is a wee bit left of center, it can literally make my teeth grind.  I usually suffer this distraction in silence because, after all, what can my dearest do about it?  Unfortunately, one day I snapped.  I'm embarrassed to admit this but I hissed rather nastily that I would prefer eat alone than to "listen to a popcorn machine".  Instead of returning my rudeness, he sweetly explained that no, he doesn't have TMJ but that his jaw clicks because his muscles haven't aligned properly after his brain tumor surgery.  "Okay like, whatever."  I've never mentioned it again.

I play Bingo with a good friend on Friday nights.  This is the cold and flu season, there's no denying it.  Lately the gaming hall has been a cesspool of infectious diseases.  There are people coughing and hacking up all sorts of nastiness around me.  Between singing the commercial "Ricola" in order for people to catch my not so subtle hints or chastising myself for not coming prepared with a face mask, I silently curse my Bingo compatriots.  Perhaps if I would win I'd feel some sort of financial retribution.  No, I'm a consistent loser.  Why I impose myself to the bio-hazard hall every week is clearly beyond me.

Last minute lane cheaters.  I wait my turn patiently in traffic.  I bide my time.  I allow fellow drivers to merge when they have their blinkers on.  It's those - pardon my Swahili - assholes who wait until the last possible moment to dart over without signaling and force themselves between myself and the car ahead of me...oh, road rage get thee behind me!!  Breathe Breezy!  BREEAATHE!! 

Okay..I'm officially out of the "whiner's closet".  Do I feel better?  No.  I could go on for several more hours but I'll leave those rants for another day.  I don't want to overwhelm my readers all at once.  After all, I've been told that people can only take me in small doses.