Pet peeves that push our buttons

Life is full of big problems: the economy, climate change, potholes the size of swimming pools. But then there are the smaller irritations – the tiny everyday assaults on my sanity that make me sigh dramatically like I’m auditioning for a soap opera.

People who say “let’s meet at 3” but arrive at 3.27pm. Not late enough to be truly rude, but late enough to make you question your life choices while pretending to admire the restaurant’s wallpaper.

Then there’s the mystery of socks. You put two in. You get one out. Somewhere in the laundry dimension, a sock mafia is thriving. I wonder what they’ll pay for the huge bag of singles I have in my possession.

How can one forget the slow texter? You send a message, the little “typing…” bubble flashes, then disappears. Three days later: “K.” Thanks for the emotional rollercoaster, Karen.

I know these well: grocery bags that whisper betrayal. I carry them proudly like a weightlifter crossing the driveway, only for the handle to snap at the exact halfway point, scattering apples into the bushes.

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Packaging that could survive a nuclear blast gets my goat. Why is opening a staple gun in a sealed plastic cover basically an upper-body workout?

I didn’t sign up for CrossFit.

People who reply “Who’s this?” Excuse me, it’s 2025. Phones have contact-saving technology. I should not have to reintroduce myself every six months like we’re speed dating.

As a regular traveller, I often contemplate which bright spark came up with the tiny shampoo bottles in hotels. Who decided that one tablespoon of shampoo is enough for a normal human head? Were they bald?

Is it just me, or do you also have a thing about people chewing loudly? It’s not a percussion performance, it’s a meal, Susan.

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Have you done the automatic bathroom tap hand dance? Wave hands left. Wave hands right. Summon rain gods. Nothing. Then suddenly: Niagara Falls. And spray all over one’s nether regions.

Yes, they do exist: people who clap when the airplane lands. Ice cubes that weld themselves into one mega-cube, on purpose, so it won’t fit into your glass.

Glitter is another one. One craft project and suddenly it’s part of your DNA.

My ultimate pet peeve … That sneaky sneeze. When I almost sneeze but don’t.

It’s like my body pranked itself and left me with a burning nose as a booby prize.

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