I’ve never done this. I’m about to embark on a journey that consist of writing one post a day non-stop for 31 days on my blog. This is a challenge, because I’ve never written two posts in a row. *freaked-out face*
A bit too late. Since I’m starting not on the first day of the month, but the 8th, I’ll start on day 8 on the prompt – it’s easier to keep track.
Anyway, it’s an interesting topic to kick off the blog challenge, but I have to treat it with all seriousness. According to Wikipedia, a pet peeve is a minor annoyance to an individual that they identify as particularly annoying, and the next person may not give much thought to it. The key is that it is minor, and one might find it have greater annoyance on their life than others do. So if it’s something blatantly disrespectful and everyone agrees, then it is not a pet peeve; it’s a… blatantly disrespectful thing.
My pet peeve came from my mom who ran the household in which I grew up in, in a very clean, neat and organized manner. She did not allow me to be in my bed unless I’m showered and dressed in special PJ that’s only for the bed, but no where else. So when I went to college and lived in the dorms, I found the best way to avoid someone sitting on my bed while visiting is to elevate my bed up to near the ceiling and placed my desk underneath it. When I moved to apartments with friends, all my roommates know that they shall not touch my bed unless they are showered and dressed in PJs approved by my strict standards. Of course I had friends who visited without this knowledge and took the liberty to couch my bed, ignoring any of my approved procedures. I tell ya, some got gentle reminders, some got scoldings…
The thing is, I’m a pretty easy going person. I’m organized, but not a freak about it. In fact, my desk has dusts, there are some paper piling up (not yet overwhelming) and there are some clothes unfolded – and I’m fine with that. As for the bed, I might have mellowed down a bit, but I still hold some uncompromising lines for what can be on it. I know I know, I have a feeling that some day God would break me by having a husband or children or pets (I’m pretty sure about getting a big lab when I have a big enough place), and they would care less about my standard protocols for my bed. The lines will be blurry, and I will have to be fine with that.