Guest came over at the weekend. Tipped out the last of the cup of tea she’d made for herself into the sink as we were saying our goodbyes, aong with the teabag. Left the teabag sat there in the plug hole.
Right. There. In the plug hole.
I know, I know, who cares, just fish it out and throw it away when she’s gone, but I momentarily had visions of stuffing said teabag up one of her nostrils in revenge.
Help reassure me that I am not alone in my insanity. What tiny, ridiculous, non-things give you the murdrous rage?