I have days where the second I open my eyes in a morning I know I’m “on one”. I feel arsy and irritated and could fall out with my own finger ends. Today is one of those days. It’s only 6.45am and the world and everyone in it already annoys the shit out of me. It could be hormones – I’m on day 18 of my cycle and last month my cycle was only 19 days – or I could just be having one of those days. Whatever the reason I’m wound up like a cog and I haven’t even had breakfast yet.
I have two “friends” on Facebook who feel the need to challenge everything I say. They never write anything positive but are the first people to write something negative. I want to tell them to zip it. I want to be able to have an opinion on the world without constantly being told they don’t agree with me. It may be childish but I reserve the right to have childish days even though I’ve been a grown-up for some time.
On days like this I hate my neighbours. I particularly hate the farmer who lets his dog bark at 5am every single morning which means I have to sleep with all my windows closed if I don’t want to be woken at the crack of dawn. We’ve had a mini heatwave this week, with Tuesday reaching the dizzy heights of 31C, and I had to sleep in a stifling hot room with no fresh air so that I could actually get some kip. I hate my neighbours who have lawns and spend every second of the weekend mowing them. It’s like sitting in a huge dentist’s waiting room listening to the sound of the drill. I also hate all my neighbours who own pressure washers and spend hours and hours and hours washing their cars, driveways and every other stationary object in a 10 mile radius. I miss the quiet Sundays of my childhood, when nothing happened because it was a “day of rest”. There are no days of rest anymore and no opportunity to enjoy any kind of quiet time in my garden with a good book. I want to hammer on all my neighbours’ doors and tell them to SHUT THE FUCK UP!
On days like this I hate every other driver on the roads, especially those who seem to’ve forgotten what indicators are for. I have murderous thoughts about people who zoom up to roundabouts in the wrong lane, because their time is too precious to queue in the right lane, overtaking everyone sat in the right lane and swerving in front of us all to reach the front of the queue. It’s fucking RUDE! I hate motorbikes who think the speed limit doesn’t apply to them. I hate cyclists who ride abreast on single track country roads, making me crawl along behind them at 10mph, unable to overtake, so they can have a chat to each other.
I hate people who come on my blog and tell me I have this disease or that disease even though they don’t know me from Adam and have no access to my medical notes. Or who tell me there’s no such disease as M.E. and I just haven’t searched hard enough for what’s actually going on. If they knew how insulting that was or how much I loathe them they’d step away from the keyboard. I have a particular loathing for people who come on my blog and moan my low histamine diet isn’t low histamine when they clearly have no fucking idea what they’re talking about. I actually want to strangle them.
I hate the cat who walks all over my car at night, leaving kitty footprints all over my bonnet when I’ve just spent £9 getting it washed and waxed. It must have slipped on my last car because it left a foot long scratch all the way down the front which I couldn’t get out so I now have to remember to cover my car up every single time I use it.
I hate so called “friends” who don’t contact you for an entire year because they’re “not well” or “having a hard time” but don’t give a flying fuck that you might be “not well” or “having a hard time”. But then expect you to still care about what’s happening with them when actually you couldn’t give a toss because they obviously don’t give a toss about you.
I hate people I barely know, who don’t have my diseases or care for someone with my diseases, reading my blog just to spy on me and then talk about my very private life to other people. It’s creepy and they need to fuck the hell off. Come to think of it, I hate people I know really well, who don’t have my diseases, reading my blog just to spy on me. They need to fuck off too. On the same theme, I hate people who never post jack shit on Facebook about their lives but read every morsel you write on Facebook about your life and then gossip about it. Nosey bastards. Get a life of your own, then you might not be quite so interested in mine.
I could go on…….and on……..but I’m hungry and need some breakfast. I’m sure my zen will return tomorrow but in the meantime I need to steer clear of the knife drawer 😉