It's the Little Things

Have you sensed your patience unraveling lately? Hub and I had a great laugh at my expense yesterday. Normally, I'm a woman of above average patience. I look at a crisis head on, size it up, and try to work towards a solution. Unfortunately, the little things get under my skin like an itch you can't scratch. They fester until I blow my top. That's what happened yesterday.

We've been working on cleaning out the man cave closet, which is not a small task. Over the years it had become the catch-all for anything that didn't have a home. It stored everything from Christmas ornaments to a turkey decoy. Hub's shoes were all over the floor, office supplies were stuffed on the shelves, vintage lunchboxes were in a box, crutches from some past injury were leaned against the was a hot mess.

I pulled everything out to sort and throw away what was damaged or not needed. Hub pitched in without complaining. We worked steadily to rid ourselves of years of clutter. Then we came to a dead halt because I ordered some tools and containers to organize what was going back in. The work could not continue until they arrived, so we stopped. No problem. No stress. We'll continue as soon as the UPS truck delivers them. I was cool as a cucumber to leave the sorted things scattered around the room, knowing an end was in sight. Patience galore. It's a virtue.

Upon driving to pick up food from a local restaurant, a little yellow light glowed on Betty Boop's (my car) dashboard. I mentioned it to hub, so he Googled it and found out it was the tire pressure light. No problem. We pulled into a quickie oil change place, had them check for nails and add some air to the culprit. Problem solved, right? Wrong. That little light was still on.

Hub said it was no big deal, we'd simply reset it once we were back at home. We ordered our food and began our daily drive of relaxation to fill the wait time until it was ready for pick up. I discovered quickly that tranquility wasn't in the cards. That stupid yellow light was taunting me! I tried to look away and remain calm but I couldn't. My shoulders tensed up, my tone got tacky, and I was seconds away from blowing my top. Was it actually getting brighter? I'm sure it was, just to annoy me. Hub sensed my deteriorating state and wisely whipped Betty into a parking lot. He watched a YouTube tutorial on how to get the horrible yellow beacon to stop torturing his bride. He had it fixed in a matter of seconds, the clouds parted, and the angels began to sing. All was right in the world once again! For a woman who handled an explosion of water coming through her ceiling when the water heater burst without even one curse word, you'd think a small yellow beam would not cause a lick of stress. Nope. I was seconds from a full blown hissy fit over a light the size of a dime. Gracious.

We had a hearty laugh as we traveled home with our takeout. Thank the good Lord hub knows me so well. I wish I could blame this weakness on the Covid, but unfortunately it's who I am. I could handle moving into a new house in a new state 8 months pregnant, but don't you dare leave the closet door ajar. You will not hear the end of it until it's closed. It's the little things that get my goat.

Is there anyone out there who shares this phenomenon? Leave a comment on what gets your blood boiling. I'll be there for you. I feel your pain.

Thank you for supporting me by subscribing at I really appreciate it! If you haven't joined the wonderful weirdos, please do! It doesn't cost a glowing yellow dime.

Here's the bully that got my feathers all ruffled.

0 views0 comments