I’m thinking the older I get the less tolerant I am of things that never used to bother me. Some things I never seem to notice, like crying babies for example. I can sit in a restaurant and listen to a baby scream and somehow tune it out, but I cannot stand the sound of a candy wrapper opening in the movies.
Tonight, as I was conjugating verbs with my sweet husband, the sound of my dog chomping on her dog food nearly made me crazy. It was so loud it seemed to echo off the walls. For real! Are your teeth that sharp or is the dog food that hard?, I asked her. She responded with a belch.
I cannot tolerate an ipod strapped to my arm. I don’t mind the wrap sleeve that holds my phone, but anything tight and it literally can make me stop midrun and just quit.
Lately, I seem to notice when people talk with their mouth full of food. I don’t mind laughing and coke spewing out of your nose but talking with food can send me right over the edge.
The list goes on and on, and I fear that I may be turning into a grouchy old lady. There are so many disturbing habits that I have, it is a wonder my family and friends tolerate me. Why then as the years go by, do I find myself less tolerant? Wait, before you answer me, spit our your gum. I can’t stand to hear you smack it while you speak.