Forks at Pret or Eat or wherever
When you reach for your cutlery and all the tiny forks tinily prick your hand. Why? Why are they this way round? Why all these pricks? (Not the first time you’ve thought this) And what about GERMS?
When Instagram freezes mid-Story
Should you go backwards or forwards? Will it be worth watching? Will you miss some life-changing salient point that will reorganise your entire life experience into totally manageable chunks like the best game of Tetris ever? You only have one thing to do Instagram and that is load images.
When an update reorganises your emails into chains and conversations
How the hell are you supposed to remember how the thread started? Why can’t you find the email you need? These are not the emails you are looking for…
Oil spitting from the pancetta for the risotto; scorched by the oven as you are getting an American Hot out; sparks from a novelty firework on someone’s cake; roof of mouth on soup that is 1000 degrees.
A meh clementine
You know when you eat a good clementine and it’s jazzy and zingy and fresh, and all the world is right? But a meh clementine? No moisture or jazz hands flavour, just a depressing sack in your mouth. EXACTLY.
Trainer sock slippage
You’ve got this. Or rather you would have this. If. The. Trainer. Sock. Wasn’t. Slipping.
When your mother suddenly starts calling you by your childhood nickname
You now know SHE KNOWS how stressed you are. And you want to be a grown-up with your shit together. Particularly in front of your mother.
When you open a packet of crisps shabbily
It should be easy. By this stage with all the packets of crisps you have torn open you should be able to manage a neat, containable slit. But no. Huge, open wound. Uncontainable. Pub table style. Except you’re on the bus.
When everyone is trying to give way to each other
There is someone walking towards you. You both step to one side. The same side. And oops, back again. You try and smile charmingly and laugh it off. But this is not a rom-com and you are not going to end up happily ever after. You are just trying to get to the only post office within 3.6 miles of your neighbourhood. Which is in itself annoying. To pick up a package that couldn’t fit in the letterbox. And it closes in 3 seconds.
When your hygienist tells you off…
… for over-brushing. No good deed…
Cyclists in headphones
Those pedalers are so wedded to the moral high-ground and yet… you are not in a gym. You are on an A-road, A-hole.
Too cold places
You walk in to the massively air conditioned space. You are so relieved you practically cry. But then hold on, what are those? Goosebumps? All the hairs on your arm are standing on end? You realise you need a jumper. FFS.
Yes, you in the office, we can hear a tap tap tapping. A dripping tap. And tapping foot. A drumming finger. Please stop.
The constant niggle
BUT WHAT HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN? Always there in the background. Like death. And your tax return.