I am getting old. I know this not merely because I am not blind, but because of some other tell-tale observations. No, I don’t suddenly find pop music abhorrent — I love it as much or more than ever. With the widespread influence of Earth Wind and Fire touching everything from Bruno Mars to Pharrell Williams, blaring the radio in the minivan has never been so fun. And truly my knees have sounded ninety for a very long time. But more than wrinkles, cataracts (literally), aging joints, or going to bed by 9:30 most nights, a trusty indicator of getting old is one’s list of pet peeves. Truly, young Kristie hardly had any pet peeves. But the list has grown. I’m halfway to full crank.
I’m irked by all of the following: (1) people walking slowly in front of me; (2) failure to use a turn signal, which in Tennessee is honestly an epidemic; (3) Mommy-bloggerisms like “Full Stop.” and “So much THIS.” (4) people who post a picture of “Other person and I.” In my old age this drives me bananas. Would you ever ever say, “This is a picture of I?” No, no you wouldn’t! The grammar is the same no matter how many people. I am the grumpy grammar mom who corrects via text. “Hey, can you pick Jack and I up at 3:30?” I respond every dang time with “Jack and me.” It’s like people think using “I” sounds more sophisticated or something. I’d much rather stick with the informal but closer to grammatically correct “Can you pick me and Jack up?” Cut it out with the over I-ing already! It’s like a contagion I want to stomp out but can’t get ahead of.
But my biggest pet peeve is sitting at a restaurant and having servers take items I’m not yet done with. I know I could stand to lose quite a bit of weight, but yes I do in fact want to finish my salad. And I do want that last balsamic glazed brussel sprout. I cannot even tell you how much I love eating every last piece of margarita drenched ice. I want to lick every morsel of salt off the rim and crunch the limey goodness of every single cube. I don’t know if it’s a local thing, or a generational thing or what, but I have watched servers, without asking, unapologetically whisk away all these things and more. The problem is I’m a huge fan of the movie Fletch and that leaves me totally defenseless in the face of this culinary injustice.
If I say something akin to “I’m not finished with that” I have this scene flash before my eyes.
So I can hardly ever bring myself to say a thing because I’m terrified of coming across like Mr. Underhill. So I just watch half full plates and glasses fly off the table speechless and peeved, and since I waited tables for years in college I always tip well. I couldn’t not. But for those of you in the restaurant business, please for heaven’s sake, start training servers to stop the aggressive pre-bussing and unless the plate is licked clean, don’t make any assumptions.
So how about you? Do you find your list of pet peeves growing with age too? And if so, what are they?
But by God’s grace I’ve learned to cling to this proverb:
A person’s wisdom yields patience; it is to one’s glory to overlook an offense. Proverbs 19:11
It is astounding how widely applicable this proverb is. It is to my glory to overlook an offense — pet peeves are actually just an opportunity to practice. The more I can implement overlooking little offenses the better prepared I am to overlook big ones. It’s like lifting weights — I am building my offense-overlooking muscles. At this rate, by the time I’m fifty, I’m gonna be buff.
Have a blessed weekend overlooking offenses big and small. It is to your glory after all. And while you’re at it have a couple of steak sandwiches on the Underhills!
Love to YOU,