There aren’t too many things I dislike in this world. I try to live and let live, and if that doesn’t work, I try to leave alone and let live so nobody can bother me. I get along with Democrats and I get along with Republicans and an occasional Independent.

On the other hand, I have a hard time living with chronic complainers, whether they’re Democrats or Republicans. Complaining brings everyone down, which is probably why I hate politics because it relies so much on chronic complaining.

As I’ve often said, I have no tolerance for celebrities because they’re generally dimwits with a lot of money, millions of followers and way too much media exposure.

I also despise credit cards that charge interest above 20 percent, and I can’t stomach Twitter and Amazon. I really hate to find dog poop in front of my mailbox. The day I find it IN my mailbox, I’ll go off the deep end.

Another thing that bothers me immensely is ... the throw pillow, also known as the decorative pillow. To my thinking, they serve no real purpose, or let’s just say that science has yet to discover their purpose, sort of like tonsils. They certainly aren’t meant to be “thrown” so why, to raise a metaphysical question, are they everywhere? At least everywhere in my home.

For the moment, I’ll ignore the larger universe of throw pillows that you find in Bed Bath & Beyond, HomeGoods and those other places where millennials go to decorate their new apartments.

People who buy throw pillows annoy me, and I don’t mean to offend any readers. For today in America, I think I have the right to free speech, and they have the right to buy throw pillows freely without government intervention, although that privilege may not last forever.

If I am with a family member — wife, daughter or dog — and she heads toward the large bin that contains the throw pillows, I immediately break out in cold sweats. I refuse to waste my time squeezing pillows.

And if on a very rare occasion, I should pause to examine a throw pillow that has attracted my attention, an argument will erupt with my wife because she says I have tacky taste.

To tell the truth, I bought a throw pillow once. I was in New Hampshire and spotted one that appealed to my tacky tastes. The problem, however, was that it had a moose on it. (I really like moose — or is it “mooses” or “meese”?)

We had a family feud right there in Walmart. Yes, Walmart because there are no HomeGoods in the mountains. My wife and daughters walked away from me because they were embarrassed that the paterfamilias could be so declasse as to buy a pillow emblazoned with an embroidered moose and made in China.

Anyway, I bought it and brought it home and put it on my favorite chair, only to discover it was missing the next day. I’m still looking for it.

During the COVID-19 self-inflicted quarantine, I decided to start doing things differently to preserve my sanity. I tried to develop some good habits since I’ve spent a lifetime trying unsuccessfully to eradicate my many bad habits. I figured a few more good habits might make my bad habits less noticeable.

The first thing on my list was “make the bed.” I believe a guy should assume as many domestic duties as possible. There was one glitch. Our beds are heavily ladened with a large number of decorative pillows — five of them with a Parisian theme are stacked on one bed alone. There are so many French-oriented pillows that when I get ready for bed, I imagine I’m at the Hotel Plaza Athenee on the Champs-Elysees and I start searching for a chocolate ... or a baguette.

Well, my plan to rehabilitate myself went nowhere because my wife insisted I was not arranging the pillows correctly. This, you see, comes under the category of no good deed goes unpunished. Now, excuse me while I go looking for my moose pillow.

Joe Pisani can be reached at joefpisani@yahoo.com.