Mondays to Fridays, I’m angry in the morning. It isn’t something that I do on purpose nor is it exaggerated internalization. I don’t think about it first thing nor do I psych myself to have that mindset. It’s pure emotion that I can neither predict nor control.
I wake up at 5:30 A.M. so I can get to work on time. Wake up 15 minutes later and I can be 45 minutes late for work. Sometimes, I’m angry getting up–usually when I haven’t had enough sleep because of the baby. Sometimes, the anger doesn’t come until later, usually when I get in the car and start to drive.
It’s in the car where most of my anger happens. I drive, polite as you please, then some moron cuts me on the road, or perhaps some nervous jerk honks his horn as he drives by because he’s afraid I’ll cut him, or maybe–and this usually makes me as annoyed as hell, cars in front of me turn or change lanes without signaling. Drivers on the road have lazy fingers. They couldn’t be bothered to flick their signal lights on to make a turn. It’s an epidemic. They should be quarantined.
The anger causes me to talk to myself and say very bad words. My child’s first word will be “fuck” because he’s in the back seat, hearing this every morning and absorbing it into his baby brain. I’ll be horrified, sure, but not surprised.
By the time I get to my son’s babysitter to drop him off, I’d have gone through every conceivable swear word in the English language and I’m primed for battle. The train/bus trips between Jersey and New York is fine, but once I get off at downtown New York, the anger is quick and scathing.
Slow pedestrians (”Damn. Just please get out of my way if you can’t walk faster than that!”), idiots who stop walking up the side of the escalator that’s supposed to be for walking (”Don’t they know they have to walk up escalators in the morning?! Stupid tourists!”), crossing guards who stop you from getting to the other side–never mind that a bus is speeding down the road just now (”I could’ve beaten that bus!”), or the person who keeps swiping his train pass at the turnstile in spite of the the “INSUFFICIENT FARE” clearly flashing on the instruction panel (”What part of INSUFFICIENT FARE did you not understand, retard?”).
And then a block away from my building, while getting breakfast, I realize that I’m not the only one angry in the morning, because the person who rang up my breakfast bill gave me the “whatevs” look when I apologized for taking so long to count up exact change. The thought that she’s angry would, of course, piss me off.
The anger usually ends right when I sit at my desk to begin work and breakfast, but I’m exhausted. The anger has drained me. At 8:30 AM I feel like it’s already 5 PM and I want to go home.
I get angry in the evening, too, but that’s another story.