Don't You Hate It When ...

I try very hard to never use the word "hate" toward people. I have no problem using it according to a situation or a dilemma.

I hate it when ...

An advertised product is out of stock.

Every traffic light turns red as I approach.

Someone I love is hurting.

I put my foot in my mouth.

I can't remember a person's name.

My checkbook doesn't jive with the bank.

I spend time on my hair only to get caught in a downpour.

My favorite glasses go AWOL.

I overhear someone make a disparaging comment about a person I care about.

The phone or the doorbell knocks out my train of thought.

I hurt someone's feelings or let them down.

The dog eats my favorite slippers.

The power goes out and I have to reset every clock.

My To Do List overwhelms me.

I can't track down my parents. They are supposed to be available to me 24/7.

Clothes I love don't fit.

A date night is interrupted by a screaming child. (I think if they are allowed to bring a bratty child, I should be allowed to bring my dog and her squeaky ball.

Clutter becomes acceptable.

People don't understand how beautiful and powerful they are.

People don't stand for the Star Spangled Banner, And for Heaven's sakes, take off your hat.

People wear sandals without bothering to groom their feet. Ick!

Grown men wear Speedos.

Men date and marry women younger than their daughters.

Looks are more valued than brains.

This could go on forever so I'll stop now. What do you hate?

Pedicures

I do not have a foot fetish. But I do like it when feet are well groomed.

I used to give pedicures to the oldies. I've given them to my mother and friends.

The other night the husband and I were sitting on the patio, listening to music. I was annoying him and he was cranky. He planted a big ol' foot in my lap and I ran for my kit. Clip and chop. I really like the times when I say, "This might hurt a little bit."

A Different Kind of High Maintenance

When the oldies first came to live with us, I wanted them to feel welcome and comfortable. They were on the road to recovery from various ailments (cancer) and surgeries like a few hip replacements. I showed them the town, our favorite markets, etc. I also took her to the hair salon and the manicure/pedicure people. Once they had their bearings and strength back, the manicure and pedicure became a ritual for them. (Of course, she had to include Hangdog.)

I have created a monster.

In a lucrative year, I have three pedicures. The oldies went every two weeks. Now Hangdog (in the Home) is a little incensed that pedicures aren't on the list of services provided. He's starting to panic.

I used to be squeamish but living with the oldies cured that affliction quickly. I offered to trim his toenails. After all, I gave him a manicure before the Belle's funeral. No! He wants the entire pedicure experience.

I have a new mission. I will find someone to go to the Home and give him a pedicure. Or, I will haul him to a nail salon. I'm wondering how many 84-year old men think a regular pedicure, or lack thereof, is a significant worry.