The Biggest Smallest Irritations

You know what I feel like people don’t talk about enough? How incredibly painful it is when a corn chip gets lodged up in the roof of your mouth. That sh*t can really ruin a perfectly delicious bag of Doritos – which, by the way, my mother never had at our house but which I discovered in my BF’s pantry and may or may not have been an important reason I maintained this friendship for such a long time…

It is a universal but unacknowledged frustration when your phone, which is supposed to recognize your face and open without your having to do anything at all, does not, in fact, know who you are and apparently, like Ron DeSantis, taking a very strong stance against masking. Imagine having to work our fingers when all we want to do is check our Twitter. The injustice!…

Remember when finding something to watch entailed getting in the car, and spending at least half an hour perusing your choices, and trying to find the strength to NOT get sucked into the 2-for-1 candy deal at Blockbuster? These days I can’t even believe the extent of my TV-consumption-laziness. Sometimes the vastness of choices for date night is just so overwhelming that we simply don’t even attempt to find an exciting new show and instead rely on a tried-but-true classic which for us mid-30-somethings is more often than not some mediocre rom-com. But that’s a good night. Because I can’t tell you how many times our evening plans have been derailed by the mere suggestion that we should use our Amazon Fire stick to sign into Netflix or HULU or Disney+. There is just no movie or show good enough to merit moving our fingers up and down to select the proper letters for the search box. And that’s only IF we remember our sign-in info to begin with. Because truly, how many times can you reset your password before losing your F-ing mind?!…

The summer is a challenging time for me. Not only because I hate the heat. But also because I can’t decide what is worse – being blinded by the sun or attempting to tolerate the sweat trickling down my nose from my sunglasses…

You know that nauseated feeling caused by one of your kids rolling down the window in the back when you haven’t cracked your window up front? Yeah…me neither…

Published by imworriedmytherapisthatesme

I'm a history-PhD-turned-stay-at-home-mom of three. When I'm not microwaving Trader Joe's meals for my kids, breaking up fights and wiping butts, I like to paint and write. To cope with the endless hours I'm spending with my son doing virtual school, I've abandoned my gouache paints for the more portable, less messy tried but true, paper and ink. While he learns to read to 20 floating heads on his screen, I sit on a tiny chair, at a tiny table pretending to be a productive adult.

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