Battling the grumps

There’s a reason I use cats as the avatar for the mode of living through the lens of the past.  Cats have become an understandable face for grumpy (not just that cat, but cats in general) because they have that mercurial attitude of acting very quickly and definitively at the onset of sudden negative feelings.  They don’t feel remorse for getting suddenly angry, even if they were in a happy, purry, life’s okay mood a nanosecond earlier.

Welcome to me more often than I’d like lately.  Hair trigger, easily cheesed off at stupid things that matter so very not in the grand scheme.  Grumpy.

The people we love get the worst of it because, like cats, we blindly trust that they’ll forgive us for it. To their credit (even if they don’t see it), we believe they can see past our worst versions of ourselves. Cats will turn evil instantly and come right back with a purring headbutt, begging for loving attention, moments later.

In Cat Brain mode, I blow up at the simplest stupid things, having forgotten that I’m blowing up at people who don’t realize I am grumpy and have a hair trigger. Or, in slow-burn Cat Brain mode, I turn sullen, impatient, and harrumph-y when people are just being themselves in my presence.

Featured image: reusing the delightful Wiki yawn that looks like rage.