The unbearable snag lists of life

Messy jewellery box. Squeaking floorboards. Dents in plaster. Broken handbag

Messy jewellery box. Squeaking floorboards. Dents in plaster. Broken handbag. Don't mind me - I'm just making an irritation list. Grubby air vent. Out-of-shape tights. I went to hear one of those motivational speakers the other night. Empty sock drawer.

He explained how to make an irritation list. Here's the deal, he said. You just go around your home or your office or your garden, or anywhere really, and make a list of things that are bothering you. Soot coming through chimney. Scratches on wooden floors. And then you make a plan to reduce the list over the coming weeks. Ideally, you would eliminate two irritations a week. Desk like a bombsite. Books scattered on the floor. This may take some time.

I've started with the house. Marks of unknown origin on walls. It seemed as good a place as any. Limited space to do yoga. On the plus side, we finally had sofas delivered this week. Two blue leather sofas. Two items crossed off the irritation list. But even though we don't have to sit on beanbags anymore, they brought with them a whole new set of irritations. Worried blue leather is tacky. No coffee table in sitting room. No pictures on walls.

With the room looking more like a proper lounge area, we started to notice things that we didn't notice before. Spiderweb on ceiling that looks uncannily like old man's armpit hair. Fly caught in web. Spider. It's a bit of a nightmare.

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I don't think I will ever finish this list. I mean, the bedrooms alone would take a few weeks. No wardrobes. No bookshelves. Broken mirror. Hot press has no handles. I haven't even gone near the bathroom yet. Manky shower curtain. Excess of miniature hotel shampoo bottles and sewing kits. Broken waterproof radio.

And don't get me started on the back yard. No fabulous decking. Unrendered walls. No herb garden. Or my CD collection. No complete box set of The Beatles. No complete box set of The Smiths. No complete box set of Gilbert O'Sullivan. Actually, scratch that last one. Just found it hiding behind my Burt Bacharach collection. Phew.

They say don't sweat the small stuff. But it's the small stuff that can grind you down. Then again, if it really bothered me that much, surely I'd do something about it. No photographs in albums. Or even pay someone else to do it. Make-up box in a state.

Brought to the ultimate extreme, this concept could mean you make a snag list of your entire life. Boyfriend who makes spreadsheets to keep track of social events and football matches. Also thinks Meatloaf and Status Quo at Slane this summer represents the ultimate gig. Also whistles through teeth sometimes. Can't wear high heels properly. Me. Not him. He can wear heels a little too well. Add that to list.

Once you start this racket it's hard to know when to stop. Blunt scissors. Fringe a mess because cut it myself. See scissors. You could just keep going forever, spending your life cataloguing your shortcomings. Younger sister has cooler clothes than me. Also hair. And the shortcomings of the world in general. Famine in Africa. Michael Jackson's nose. Where would it all end? Basically it wouldn't. Sombrero on clothes rail. Day-old sweet-and-sour stir-fry in wok. Dingy floor tiles. Moulting rug. Moulting poncho. Not enough storage. Not enough storage. Not enough storage.

I wonder how long it would take to make a list of things that we are truly happy with. Sun shining through blinds on the first day of spring. Things we would never want to change. Holding hands late at night on Dún Laoghaire pier. Stuff you wouldn't cross off any list. Fifteen-year-old in Tintin T-shirt clicking his heels with joy like Gene Kelly in Singin' In The Rain. I wonder how long it would take to catalogue those parts of life you'd never want to eliminate. Mandela and Geldof saying Make Poverty History. A game of table tennis on O'Connell Street. A bit of homemade bread and freshly-pounded pesto. A bit of good news on the phone.

I'm supposed to hang my Irritation List on the wall and work at reducing the number of items on it. Washing-up not done. Dinner not made. Debts not paid. But how is that going to work? For every three irritations I cross off, I'll have three more waiting in the wings. Suitcase from last week not unpacked. Sunglasses lost. Passport not found. So here's the deal. I've made a decision. I'm just putting one item on my irritation list. Irritation Lists. Now all I have to do is cross it off.

Róisín Ingle

Róisín Ingle

Róisín Ingle is an Irish Times columnist, feature writer and coproducer of the Irish Times Women's Podcast