Why am I so unaccountably pleased when someone else rants about something peeve-worthy that annoys me, too? In this case, The New York Times has just run a "Complaint Box" piece that focuses on lax disposal of cigarette butts. I agree with the writer. But what makes me even happier are the column's comments, many of which articulate some of my own primary peeves as a city-dweller. I'm talking about how much I hate sharing the sidewalks with dogs who are using said sidewalk as a toilet/urinal, and how much I despise having to inhale cigarette smoke while strolling from place A to place B because someone else must walk-and-smoke at the same time. I guess misery really does love company!
--Prunella Peeve
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