I may pen a book called “Predictably Irritated.”
I get irritated at cars and trains at railroad crossings when I’m rushing to important engagements — like noon-time hoops.
Why does the train have to pass through Portales at noon, and cars wait until the guard-rails lift?
Although I’m ultra-conservative, I would support a socialist law prohibiting interminably long trains. At their halfway point they should at least be required to have a bridge-like structure allowing vehicles to dart through.
I also get irritated at people with brimming carts in front of me at Wal-Mart. When I make a Sunday morning trip to beat the liberal Portales church crowd, how dare others do the same?
If I’m the one in front, I get irritated at those with fewer items behind me acting impatient.
Shoppers who stop their carts in front of whatever product I want, or block an aisle, also irritate me.
I do admit a bit of a Ghandi-like complex when they finally notice and begin apologizing. With huge, magnanimous gestures, I assure them that I hadn’t even noticed.
Of course, if I’m in their way, I was there first.
Now I’m feeling predictably irritated at revealing my predictable irritations.