“I don't have pet peeves, I have whole kennels of irritation.” - Whoopi Goldberg

Current pet peeves (and no, this isn’t about my PETS):

None of my maternity clothes fit me anymore.
Between having been passed around from cousins to sisters-in-law to coworkers and being washed/dried God knows how, and the fact that I am thirty pounds heavier to start than I was when I bought all these maternity clothes for my first baby, I have exactly two skirts and a dress that fit me still. All three of which I am heartily sick of, anyway.

Having to take all three children grocery shopping – or for that matter, any kind of shopping – with me. Thank GOD school starts this week. I am already planning a mammoth shopping trip to IKEA with just The Baby. I need some rag rugs for the bathroom floor, and a kitchen clock, and some plain cream-colored fitted sheets and maybe a nice poster for the bathroom wall and a decent poster frame...and I want to look at the wooden bunk beds which we are considering for the two older boys...plus paper napkins and candles – both tapers for the candlesticks and fat columns for the mantelpiece - and...cinnamon rolls. I DEFINITELY need cinnamon rolls.

Opening a book – in this case, a Lord Peter Wimsey mystery I was looking forward to reading, that I picked up at a yard sale or somewhere – and having it REEK of cigarette smoke. Yuck. My already sensitive stomach did a few turns before I gave up and started my brand new copy (courtesy of Gina for, I think, my last birthday) of Sixpence House. Which is delightful - but the author’s taste in used books is a tad...arcane.

People who don’t pick up the Freecycle stuff they said they wanted. If I wanted three cans of Iams dog food, a box of Pez dispensers, and a 16” pillow form to sit on my porch for three days, do you think I’d have posted it on Freecycle in the first place?

People who send your children home from birthday parties full of lemonade and cake and pizza, with a full bag of candy and more junk food. I am all for the little guys having a good time, but really, do they need a whole bag full of crap to bring home, thus necessitating me spiriting it away when they are not looking? Because I’d like them to have some teeth left in their mouth and some lining to their stomachs...

Children’s socks that are not even nearly big enough once they’ve been through the wash. Especially children’s socks with little bulldozers on them that you bought as sort of a treat, instead of the usual boring white sweat socks.

Having H announce at 4 pm over email that he has plans that evening. AFTER you arranged to go out with coworkers after work. And after he has been out two nights already that week. I am hardly a jailer, I am happy he has friends, but God, does the man have an active social life. To the detriment of mine.

Getting a terrific haircut with layers and chunky bangs-sort of things, that will not be pulled back into an elastic any more because of said chunky bangs-sort of things.

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Well, except this part:

To my mind, the only possible pet is a cow. Cows love you. . . . They will listen to your problems and never ask a thing in return. They will be your friends forever. And when you get tired of them, you can kill and eat them. Perfect. – Bill Bryson