Okay, so there's a bunch of stuff that drives me nuts. And somebody has to know about it other than me. Sooooo...
1. Low talkers. Speak the freak up already. This chick I work with talks in a constant whisper, and not a loud whisper, a super-quiety, my-baby-hasn't-slept-in-a-week-and-if-we-drop-so-much-as-a-feather-she -will-wake-up kind of a whisper. What's the big freaking secret? SPEAK UP!
2. Coughing. I have been coughing for something like a week and a half. The doctor says it's bronchitis and will resolve itself eventually. I am inviting it to do so ASAP because I CANNOT take it anymore. For some reason, the cough especially seems to kick in when I make any sort of professional phone call which is so absolutely awesome and not mortifying at all. No, I promise I've never smoked a day in my life even though it sounds like 2 packs a day. I promise. Also, all the freaking coughing is giving me a headache. Enough already!
3. Babysitters. Okay, to clarify, I don't hate babysitters in general. In fact, I don't even hate any specific babysitters. I just hate trying to find one. We don't live close enough to any family or friends for them to help us out in a consistent way. We've been lucky enough to have the daughters of a couple of friends of ours help out from time to time which has been great, but those girls are growing up and have their own lives and interests that don't neccesarily allow them to spend time with my child. Fine. I advertised for a sitter. A lovely young woman came to interview and I liked her a lot. I usually have fairly good instincts about people, so I asked her for her references and plan to hire her if all is well. It's just that I'm pretty sure if she's some kind of lunatic, she probably has some lunatics who are willing to serve as references for her. So what if all of the references I call are in fact co-conspirators in some evil plan? I am sweating and tearing up even as I write this. WHY THE HELL DON'T WE LIVE NEAR FAMILY??? Nanny-cam, where are you when I desperately need you? Maybe we can spend the first date just parked down the street and sneaking around peeking in windows and such. Just in case. Totally worth the money. But what if THAT'S all part of her evil plan, too? Be cool the first time just in case they're sneaking around. *Sigh* It's exhausting trying to keep a child safe. It was so much easier to actually be the child and never worry about my own safety at all.
4. Phone calls. Again, I don't hate all phone calls (though I am really not partial to talking on the phone). The ones I hate typically fall into one of two categories. First, hang up calls. About a million times a day I get a phone call at work where the caller hangs up when I answer. I am not sure if they called the wrong number, weren't looking for me in particular or what, but I am so done with the hanging up situation. Stop bugging me. Two, the call-back calls. This is also a work issue. I am plugging along when I get a phone call and after I politely answer with my name and the name of the hospital I work at, I get, "Yeah, somebody called me from this number." Mmmmkay. Look, genius, just becaue you have caller ID doesn't mean that you should have nothing better to do than call back every wrong number on your list. My response is usually, "This is a hospital. I have no way of know who might have called you." Internally, my response goes a little more like, "If you don't stop wasting my time with this crap I am going to smack you down." The most annoying part of this is that the caller generally gets all irritated with ME about the situation, like I'm trying to keep some information from her (I don't think I've ever encountered this behavior with a man). Seriously? I don't have time for this stuff.
5. My cat. Our oldest cat is certainly trying to kill either herself or us. My guess is that she would be happiest if she could accomplish both at the same time. Any time I start to go down the stairs when the light isn't good, she's lying just beneath the top step waiting to trip me. Or, if I am standing and cooking in the kitchen, when I turn to the sink she is inveriably standing there, waiting to topple me. The other day while rinsing raw chicken, I stepped into a pile of her vomit. While barefoot. The grossness of that alone nearly killed me, not to mention the fall hazard. We feed her, we let her sleep in our bed, we mother her like our own child and this is how she repays us. Not. Cool.
If anyone can help me out with any of the above situations, I am happy to take advice. And please, for the love of all that is holy, speak loudly enough for me to hear you!