I'm not sure where irritability comes from, though I know it rises through the porousness of my mood, slipping up through the cracks I usually keep filled somehow.  What's the putty, the filler?  Oh, general good common sense or the politeness my mother taught me.  Most days, I can keep the irritability tamped down because I know it's based on the acronym HALT (Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired).  We used that in our household when the boys were growing up, and it's actually quite amazing how often one is in HALT. 

I have had HALT in the afternoons after work and sometimes on the weekends if I don't get lunch.  I have HALTed in hotel rooms after long journeys.  I've had HALT when the people I"m with can't find a restaurant, and we end up drinking for too long.  No, wait, that's called DRUNK.  But HALT was likely there, first.

HALT makes sense of irritability, but sometimes I am upset, grumpy, angry for no real reason.  No hunger presaged it.  I can be irritable in a crowd of people.  I can be irritable and wired on too much caffeine.

Lately when I feel that way, I wonder what my mood is trying to tell me.  I can see my irritability like a small person waving a flag, trying to warn me about something. 

"Pay attention," the small person says, dropping his flag and poking me with his cache of swords.  "Figure out what is bothering you."

He drops his swords and moves onto the the axe. 

Yesterday, my knickers were in a twist, and I still haven't been able to untwist them.  I was riled.  I should have been at home, locked in my cage.  Or I should have gone on a long run, for about two days.  I should still be on the run, but I would have HALT by now.  Drugs are out of the question because I'm now allergic to anything other than aspirin.

So the little man has his knives, swords, axe, teeth, and boxing gloves out.  He's staring at me.  I know I should step on him.

Jessica