Oh bloody hell, I’ve done it again – the dearly beloved’s left for work with the sting of my irritability in his ears.
I tend to wake up snappy these days. Usually it’s not a problem, because I time my waking (6:30) to coincide with his leaving for work, so I can be sweet and loving as he heads out the door. Today he lingered for an extra half hour. I think that’s what undid me. I can manage niceness for a short snatch in the morning; no longer.
It’s not that he did anything wrong, really. He just made lots of noise and kept talking to me and wandering around picking things up and putting them down, as he prepared for work. He didn’t deserve my attitude. Unfortunately, I think he’s used to it.
I used to be a true morning person. I’d wake up and instantly be me: on board with my plans for the day, cheerful, energetic, tolerant. This changed about ten years ago, perhaps a little longer. It’s my morning intolerance I find hardest to live with. I just want things to be easy in the mornings, as I shake myself free of sleep’s web and orient myself towards the day. I don’t want to put up with stupid questions, noise, unnecessary movement. Did my worsening depression cause my morning scratchiness? I don’t know. Perhaps it did: the timeline’s about right. Or maybe I’m some sort of super-long-cycling bipolar, with a decades-long cycle! 🙂
When I was spending so much time in hospital last year, I developed a short phrase: “No conversation before calories!” which was my shorthand way of telling people not to bother sitting at my table or trying to speak to me until I’d eaten. Really, the eating was just a mask to ensure I’d downed sufficient cups of tea to make myself presentable to the world. Three’s the magic number, apparently. As not too many people on the ward were in the habit of getting up as early as I was, the populance was mostly safe from being snipped at.
Whatever has caused it, I’m sorry, and I wish I wasn’t this way. But, for goodness’ sake, don’t bother speaking to me until after my third cup of tea, unless you want your head bitten off. And as for the dearly beloved – well, sometimes I apologize, and he hasn’t noticed I’ve been mean to him. I hope today’s one of those days.