Hand lotions equipped with pump dispensers, for example, are one of my pet peeves.
I have trouble activating the pump when I open a new bottle. Should I turn the cap to the left or to the right? It’s written right there on the bottle, of course, but it’s 2-point type, very small. I’m usually not wearing my glasses and I don’t know where my glasses are and I can’t justify looking for my glasses just to open a freakin’ bottle of lotion. PLUS, the cap is stubborn and hard to turn.
So I twist the cap right, then left; I get frustrated; struggle with the pump; jerk it up and down; wiggle it; then whack it on the counter. It eventually squirts lotion, but I never remember which of the tantrum-like activities got it started and by then I’m all sweaty and out of breath and don’t want to think about it anymore.
On a Peeve Level of 1 to 10, where 1 is merely peev-ish and 10 is the peeviest, this is a 6.
When the bottle of lotion is almost empty I get newly peeved. The pump won’t pump out the last inch or two. I know lotion is in there, but the tube isn’t long enough to touch the bottom. I throw the pump dispenser in the trash and slash off the top third of the bottle. The remaining lotion lasts at least another week or two.
Peeve Level: 5.
Liquid soap is equally annoying. At least an inch of liquid is left in the bottom of the container when the dispenser throws in the figurative towel and refuses to follow directions.
Peeve Level: 5.
Toothpaste tubes. My friend Lynne cuts the tube in half when it gets down to the last smidge. She claims there’s enough toothpaste to squeeze out another week or two of tooth-cleaning. I don’t get too worked up about toothpaste tubes.
Peeve Level: 1.
Are manufacturers cajoling us into buying more lotion/toothpaste/liquid soap before we need it? I’ve always suspected this of shampoo manufacturers. I think they’re scheming, dreaming up devious tactics to lure us into buying more of their product.
It’s those "Lather; rinse; repeat" instructions that bother me. Peeve Level potential: 5.
Shampoo should clean hair on the first go around. A friend of mine raised a bunch of teenage boys who she claimed were lathering, rinsing and repeating at least three times a day. She used to buy a huge bottle of shampoo, then pour half into another bottle, which she hid in a closet behind a box of Tampax. Then she filled the shampoo bottle up to the brim with water and shook vigorously.
The kids never knew.
Now the confession: I’m still playing Candy Crush.
I have decided to consider Candy Crush an exercise in using resources wisely and planning ahead for success. It’s teaching me to make the most of my resources (striped candies, color bombs, wrapped candies, jelly fish, coconut wheels, etc.) then using them to best advantage.
The skill is transferrable, I think. I plan on consuming actual resources (lotion, shampoo, soap, etc.) to the last drop.
Peeve Level, so far, this week: 2.
Candy Crush level, this week: 1205.