How does one boldly handle irritability that arises for no particular reason or at least has nothing to do with the innocents who cross one’s path?
I have an idea that total withholding of the snappishness that longs to surface isn’t good for the relationships. But neither is the full-strength snapping.
Intellectually I know that the right thing is to say: I’m in an irritable mood. Then the other person can proceed forewarned. But that doesn’t feel particularly satisfying. In fact, the prospect annoys me more.
Looking out my office window to the deck of the house door next has possibilities. The 46 year-old woman who lived there died two weeks ago of pancreatic cancer. As I sit here, that approach is starting to work.