PET PEEVES

 I’m not talking about pets like dogs, cats, monkeys or rocks.  I’m talking about the things that some people call idiosyncrasies.  I call them my crazies.  I’ll bet you have some too and I’ll go even further and say we share some of the same one.  I’m just more vocal about them than most sane people.

One of my biggest and the one that happens almost every day is to get behind the person I call “he keeper of the speed limit.”  You know what I mean.  He or she drives in the far left lane and actually drives the speed limit.  You can’t get around them so you can speed, get caught and buy some stock in the city or county, but that’s not the point.  It’s not up to them to keep me from going over the speed limit especially when everyone in the right lane is passing both of us.

How about when you’re walking down the sidewalk and there are three people in front of you walking three abreast.  When did they inherit the entire sidewalk?  I need to get around them.  I have things to do.  They are impeding my progress.  The only thing worse is when the same three people are walking towards me and expect me to step off the sidewalk so they can keep their line straight.  And did I mention the person who walks in front of you who keeps moving from left to right keeping you behind them no matter which way you try to pass them?

Do I sound like a cranky old fart who should stay in the home and never be let out again?  Stand by.  I ain’t through yet.

I also think every city police department should have at least on person on patrol who is designated the “Crazy cop.”  He’s the one who looks for people who are driving with a small dog in their lap.  The dog is named “Snookums” and little Snookums has his head out the window blocking the driver’s view of the mirror.  The same police officer will also be on the lookout for drivers in early morning traffic who shave, eat a bowl of cereal, catch up on the crossword puzzle or read a book while driving ever-so-slowly on the way to work.  Notice I did not say anything about women putting on make-up or fixing their hair.  I’m married.  I know my limits.

If you’ve been reading this or my books you know I’m from the South.  As a product of that region of the United States, I have certain things that come with the turf.  I open doors for ladies, pull out chairs, say “yes ma’am” and give my seat on the Greyhound to old ladies I also have a Southern accent.  Therein lies the rub.  Seems every idiot on TV or in the movies who has an IQ that matches his shoe size has a Southern accent.  And why can’t I complement a lady on her perfume or hair style or whatever without it coming back to wreck my political career forty years from now. Don’t get me wrong, most of the thing we hear in the news now is not okay, but I’m afraid to pay what I consider a complement to a female unless she is a blood relative.

Okay, that’s enough for today.  I’ll get off my soapbox this week and let you get back to whatever it is you do while waiting for my next blog.

Remember, don’t sweat the petty stuff and don’t pet the sweaty stuff.