I'll be honest. I have a lot of them. And some of them creep up on me without my knowing, screaming into my brain with the velocity of a freight train and daring me to react. Which I do.
Every single time.
Yesterday Jake said to me- "You have a lot of 'banes of existence'"- I guess I say that a lot. Paper is one of them- the bills that come in the mail without permission, the donation requests, the things to file away. I can't remember the rest of my banes, but they'll be there right when I need just one more thing to complain about.
Ah. There it is. Now we're getting somewhere. Isn't the pet peeve just a clever way of masking complaints?
Ugh, I hate it when he cracks his knuckles.
Grrr, I wish she'd stop clicking that pen!
Seriously, why do people have to park crookedly?
Glorified complaining, my friends, that's what it is. As if there isn't enough joy-sucking discontent on the earth already, we love to find those nit-picky, irritating little things and call them out. It's so easy to do on Facebook. I've caught myself bashing someone's all-too-frequent-foodie-picture posts or feeling annoyed when people talk about their kids too often, or what's the deal with this article and why should we care how you feel about the price of tea in China?
You get the idea. It's all there, wrapped up under the guise of a pretty little pet peeve, when really there's a bigger monster hiding under the bed. I am amazed at how quickly the provocation of a pet peeve gives way to anger, once the complaining is over and your blood pressure starts to rise.
I've been convicted about this, and have been asking God to wean the complaining spirit out of me. I've been reminded to choose joy lately, and need to remember that God's joy is what I must claim, rather than silly grievances of the mundane.