Of all the many things that annoy me, hovering may be the one that not only annoys me but makes my skin crawl. And hovering is that one thing that I experience on daily basis – the dreaded husband hoverer.
My husband carries the laundry to and from the laundry room for me. The ‘to’ portion is fine, he drops the basket and leaves but the ‘from’ portion drives me nuts. I’ll tell him – “Give me at least 20 minutes…” and does he? No. There I am happily folding laundry, a chore I like, and then there he is – standing there – hovering – while I fold. So I start to fold faster, and I get itchy. I get twitchy. I get annoyed.
If I’m in the kitchen doing something, anything, he comes in and – hovers. “Is there something you want?” I ask. “No” he says “Can’t I just stand here and look at you?” “NO” I say. “Go stand somewhere else. Go look at something else. Go away. Stop hovering!”
More than once, during job interviews, I was asked what trait in a boss did I not like. My answer was always “hovering”. I don’t like someone standing behind me, hanging over my shoulder. I don’t like people just hanging around watching me – do anything.
I sometimes wonder how I survived living in New York City for 44 years and riding the subway. I hate crowds and I hate hovering. And I hate being touched by people I don’t know; hell, there are times when I am not all that crazy about being touched by people I do know, and please do not hug me. I don’t do hugs. I hate hugs. I’ll hold your hand, I like holding hands, but not hugs.
Wow, that is a boatload of aitches – not being Cockney, I won’t drop them.