I am of a firm conviction that alphabet letters and numbers under ten should be only one syllable. We teach these sequences to small children; they shouldn’t be too complicated to say in their entirety or pronounce. For this reason, I have a big problem with the letter “W.” Can we call it “dub?” I am also not fond of seven, but that’s a much smaller battle.
I have been working two jobs this week and having trouble keeping them straight. I have to think for about five seconds when answering the phone of where I am and what my greeting is. I keep mixing up the words “claimant” and “candidate.” The worst part is the voicemail. I hate listening to menu options. I’m that person who pushes buttons anticipating what they will ask instead of waiting to hear the automated voice tell me what to press. Sure, sometimes I end up with Spanish options as a result, but I believe in educating myself anyway. To delete my voicemails, I can never remember if it’s two, seven (ugh), or *three. This kicks me back to the beginning of the menu usually which further irritates me. Further proof that the impatient have only themselves to blame for their frustration.
My husband has giant toenails. I am not hyperbolizing here, they are massive. All he would have to do to maintain their human size is clip them once a week. Even once every two weeks would suffice for me. Keeping short toenails is not a priority for him (priorities are as follows in this order: beer, sports, mowing the lawn, Tucker, me). As a result, about once every week or so I wake up in middle of the night having a dream I was stabbed in the leg. In reality, it’s just Steve’s talons ripping off my skin as he moves in his sleep. I do accept his flaws along with his perfections, but this one is becoming dangerous.
What are your significant other’s flaws? Do they cause you any bodily harm?