Two things remind me of each other; fingernails on a chalkboard and the feel of a clarinet reed in my mouth.  Not a fan of either.  I don't like the sensation they give my insides.  There was always a kid in every class throughout the ages who found great hilarity in running his nails across the chalkboard just to irritate everyone.  It was like a human dog whistle.  My mom can mimic that sound by annoyingly clicking one of her long fingernails under one of her other long fingernails so repetitively your skin begins to separate from your flesh.  In fact, I was once trapped in the back seat of a car on vacation with my mom (whom I love deeply).  She proceeded to click her nails together for what seemed like hundreds of miles as she read out loud nearly every road sign with differing inflections in her voice depending on her level of interest in the words.  I had a small tick in my left eye as we rolled into my aunt's house!  My ex-husband had a habit of driving using the accelerator in a sort of push then coast sort of way.  It was so obvious and sometimes nauseating to passengers that a few close friends and myself just took to driving when with him (plus we got there much faster!).  Standing in Dairy Queen with my daughter, son-in-law and husband we were about 8th in a long line.  The line never moved, nor did any staff member say, "May we help you?  Or, it will be just a minute."  Nothing.  The staff of what appeared to me to be mostly or all teenagers, seemed to be running in circles, all making food and no one manning the counter.  When I could not take their chaotic system or lack of helping anyone I said, "Excuse me, do you know there are least 8 people in line?"  I got a snippy response back and we waited some more!  At a coffee shop some years back a young high school or college aged girl waited on my daughter and I.  She had the attitude of a porcupine and the warmth of a bat.  After bringing the food to the table she turned and left.  Nothing we ordered was right for either of us.  When I could get her attention, I kindly told her that this was not what we had ordered.  With disgust as big as the Texas sky, she picked up the plates in silence and turned to take them back to the kitchen.  As she did, she rolled her eyes.  Something snapped in me!  I said, "Excuse me.  You just rolled your eyes at me for what reason."  She proceeded to try and say she hadn't but even that came out with a pissy attitude.  The owner and I spoke on my exit from the coffee shop about the face of his business at the tables.  I never graced that establishment again.  I did not want to play the clarinet when trying out for the 6th grade band.  Instead, I wanted to be a percussionist ever bit as bad as I wanted to never have to wear a dress again.  Mr. Lentz (who irritatingly used his car keys to clean his ears out during band practice) the band teacher said, "Lynn, you will play clarinet."  I hated that reed and the feel of it against my teeth.  Every time I pursed my lips this strange gritting sensation would run through my teeth and jaw.  Just like fingernails on a chalkboard.  Certain things are just irritating, annoying and sometimes, down right obtrusive!

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