The day is getting lighter as the sun struggles to appear. It is in the high 30’s but the rest of the week will be in the 40’s and one day may hit 50˚. I think the forecast is worthy of song, “We’re having a heat wave, a tropical heat wave.”
Some things just drive me crazy. Men wearing baseball caps inside is one of them. It is old school, I know, to expect men to take their hats off in a restaurant, but I do. Some people, mostly of the male variety, shovel their food into their mouths. They hold their forks like a piece of equipment, like that shovel I mentioned. Little kids doing it I understand as they’re still in process, but I don’t understand adult shovelers. Pocketbooks on the table at restaurants drive me crazy. Texting has its place but not while we’re eating. How about some table talk, some conversation? Catch up with one another. Mumbling doesn’t count. One of my former relatives ate with her mouth open. I could never sit across from her. She obviously didn’t have the constant reminder, “Chew with your mouth closed,”the way we did. My mother was big into manners.
I admit we did some things just to drive one or both of our parents crazy. Shuffling our feet as we walked was one of them. My father inevitably yelled, “Pick up your feet.” We did literally and that made it even worse. Tapping a fork on the table was more than my mother could handle. She’d come right over and take the fork out of the offender’s hand. I admit I am a tapper, but I have never intended malice. It just happens when I’m engrossed in something like figuring out a crossword puzzle word. “Stop tapping!” from my mother would pull me from my reverie.
I live alone and even drive myself crazy at times. That’s the worst.
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