People muscling into my territory. I mean, I've been going there for a year and one day my ___ swoops in and suddenly the lovely person is inquiring about them. Politeness or not I mean C'MON what's so bad about me?! I know I don't speak much. I just smile. Or nod. Or frown. It depends how depressing the conversation is. Urghhghghgh.
Having to haul a box of rodents, a bag of lettuce and a rug all at once without anyone opening the door. Counting backwards from ten has at least stopped the outraged slavering but I'm still working on the twitch.
Internet cutting out when I'm trying to listen to Shakira late at night, waiting for tea and to brush my teeth and being very, very, very naughty indeed. I solemnly swear that I'm a thoroughly naughty person. Stitch has nothing on me in terms of destruction and mischief.