Spiders with body hair.  Alarm clocks.  February in Iowa.  Grapefruit.  Poets that go out of their way to be incomprehensible.  Laugh tracks in old movies and sitcoms.  Rubbery shrimp.  Reality TV.  Internet trolls.  Indigestion. 

Websites that offer illegal copies of books.  Expensive technology that doesn’t work unless you first paint a pentagram on the floor and sacrifice a virgin.  People who overuse the phrase “at the end of the day.”  Mealy apples.  Cold feet—both metaphorical and corporeal.  Mold and mildew.  Expensive restaurants with crappy food.

Rightwing lunatics armed with assault rifles.  Leftwing Orwellian nutjobs armed with a Twitter account.  Smoke detectors that think humidity from my shower is a valid reason to get hysterical.  Corked wine.  Clogged public toilets.  Mosquitos.  Writer’s block.  Cold fries and lukewarm tea.  Harpsichords.  Loud motorcycles.  Aggressively-friendly telemarketers.  Phlegm. 

Wasps.  Hangovers.  Faculty meetings.  Incorrect spelling.  People who ban books.  Spam in my email inbox.  Litterbugs.  Cancer.  Fruitcake.  Funerals.  Electronic devices with lights that don’t turn off unless you unplug them.  Neighbors who blast their music louder than I’m blasting mine.  Bad news.  People who are cruel to kids or animals.  

Neck labels on t-shirts.  Athlete’s foot.  Inguinal hernias.  Hemorrhoids.  Pimples.  Cold sores.  Warts.  Skin tags.  Faulty condoms.  Overcooked asparagus.  Nightmares.  Chronic anxiety.  Poverty.  Sleepless nights.  Losing friends.  The death of love.  Reminders of my own mortality.  

Relentlessly positive people who refuse to admit they hate anything.