20 Things That Enrage Me When I’m Undermedicated

  1. Alarm on my phone .25 decibels too loud.
  2. Husband said “Good morning.”
  3. Dog breathing too loudly.
  4. Dog smells slightly like dog.
  5. Dog’s kneebone is too bony.
  6. Dog exists.
  7. Cats demanding food again.
  8. Small piece of trash I tried to balance on top of too-full trash can fell down.
  9. Human mortality.
  10. Temperature of shower water .5 degrees too cold.
  11. Turned the spigot too far the other direction and now water is .5 degrees too hot. MOTHER FUCKER.
  12. Long, stiff hair on chin taking longer than expected to remove.
  13. Radio waves probably mutating cells = cancer.
  14. Sugar jar sitting right in the middle of the fucking counter instead of aligned with backsplash. WHY DOES HE ALWAYS DO THAT?
  15. Length and color of boss’s talons.
  16. The way my boss ended her email with the word “Thanks.” “Thanks”? What’s that supposed to mean?
  17. Did you ever notice how stupid everyone is?
  18. Is it Myanmar, or Burma? Make up your damn mind.
  19. The word “should.” I don’t like it, with its silent letter and brazen single syllable, nor do I trust it.
  20. List posts.


Why is this dog still here. (morguefile.com)
Why is this dog still here. (morguefile.com)


4 thoughts on “20 Things That Enrage Me When I’m Undermedicated

  1. Ohhhhh. Just arrived from Mommy Catharsis’s place.

    (There’s another d#mn thing for your lists-I-would-never-dream-of-referring-to-as-one:

    The English language’s (widges) stupid-as-widges pesky-to-pronounce possessive plurals, and most especially those where nouns already come equipped with ending esses and thus force us into sounding like snakes with a sibilant stutter.)

    It’s 7:10 am–or it was, when I began this bleary-eyed and arthritic one-fingered typing from my bed–and I have just learned:

    1. I love you. Yes, some envy.
    2. I will never read another post.

    Until after visiting the loo and peeing. Came *this* close to marinating my mattress when I hit “boss’s talons”.

    Now, I am forced to follow you on the strength of this one post.
    You had better be this good all the time, or I shall report you.

    (Duh: I will tell Mommy on you.)

    –O. Babe

    P.S. I is now 8:50. Slow I may be, but thank W.P. It ate the first posting of this comment, which I only now discovered. I am confident the first version was witty.

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