Grrrrrr...

I'm irritated.
Wait, even better than that ...
I'm testy.

Not exactly pissy because I'm not exactly *pissed*. But I'm irritated. My mom used to call it "testy". Context clues and observation tell me that this is what I am. I never questioned it, but just for shits and giggles I looked it up and dictionary.com confirms that YES, this is what I am.

tes·ty adj. tes·ti·er, tes·ti·est
Irritated, impatient, or exasperated; peevish: a testy cab driver; a testy refusal to help.

So...now that we've got that cleared up I should tell you why, huh. Yeah ... no. For now it's just for me, I think. I've poured my heart out to a little looseleaf piece of old paper that I plan to burn later.

What I will tell you is how silly and nearly fun enough to bring me OUT of testiness being testy actually is. I notice things - all those things that other people would actually get angry about or say something about in a mood like mine. Like the way Chris chews. Or the way that STUUUUUF was all over our clean room when I got home. Luckily, I see that I am only being testy and I don't actually get mad. Eating lasted all of 2 minutes - who's going to ruin a whole night for 2 minutes worth of loud chewing? And the room ... he cleaned that up just like I knew he would. I was completely distracted earlier and nearly forgot to pick up a dear friend of mine, but I made it and she was not mad. I nearly knocked about 10 people off the road and drove almost twice the speed limit to get to her - but all was well in the end. And eventually all will be well in the end. My testiness will pass and I'll get on with life. Just as soon as I can burn this damn piece of looseleaf paper... ;-)

Testy but still laughing at myself,
Darbi