Stop eating chips in the office.
I can be having a great day. Fantasic day. Then I hear the crinkle of the bag, the pop as the bag is opened, the rustle as they find a chip, the crunch of the chip and then the sucking of the seasoning off their fingers.
GROSS GROSS GROSS
Then it starts again. With every chip my good mood diminishes and I feel like freaking out and yelling STOP! Grabbing the bag of chips and shoving them through the paper shredder so they can’t get them back.
Crinkle, rustle, crunch, crunch, crunch, smack, smack.
Over and over and over.
Shut the F*CK UP. I can feel myself tense up, the sucking of fingers almost makes me gag, it’s so gross. It’s like a slinky, if I was eating the chips it wouldn’t bother me or if I was home with friends and they were eating chips, it wouldn’t bother me.
At work it bothers me and it’s gross.
So please for the sanity of your coworkers don’t eat chips at work.
I don’t know why this bugs me so much. It’s one of those petty little things that I really should let go but I can’t.
It is that time of year where the temperature is falling and people are buying new winter coats. Lovely wool and cashmere winter coats, so many beautiful coats.
There was a girl on my bus in a beautiful indigo cashmere coat. How do I know it was cashmere? Well she hadn’t taken off the big white tag on the sleeve that says 100% cashmere.
The coat was beautiful, obviously expensive, a gorgeous cut, beautiful buttons but all I could see was the tag. That WHITE square taking away from how beautiful the coat was. She isn’t the only one, I’ve seen several over the last week or so.
I’m very happy that people are out shopping and getting new coats. They are lovely. Now take the f*cking tag off. It is there so that a potential consumer can quickly identify what a coat is made of while shopping. Once you purchase the coat it is meant to be removed, restoring the beautiful lines of a coat and not distracting the eye with that white square.
On the bus I couldn’t stop staring. I wanted to go over and pick it off. Take out my little swiss army knife, use the tweezers as a stitch ripper and take the damn tag off.
If I had even the wearer would have to admit that it looked way better without the tag. Or not. Either way I would feel better and not so anxious and angry.
Yes I know that I need to not be so picky, to not sweat the small stuff but once I notice something like that. I can’t let it go. This happened days ago and now I’m writing a post about it.
Next time I’m taking the damn tag off, at least I’ll feel better even as security escorts me off the bus.