Prickly

Do you ever go through a stretch of life where everything that occurs results in you automatically responding with prickly irritation?

I don't mean physically so much, although it's a no-brainer that a tumble into a clump of poison ivy renders one less comfortable for a time.

It's more an existential poison ivy patch. If one normally reacts to quotidian woes with Zen-like tranquility or a Gallic shrug and weary chuckle, a stretch of the prickly dials exasperation way up and patience way down, with the result that usual coping skills aren't as effective as they've been in the past.

Perhaps it's nothing more than an annoying itch of the psyche but I'm deep in it now, which leads to blog silence (as writing anything is beyond my whirling thoughts) short attention spans, general snappishness and a well-bitten tongue.

Garcon? One large bottle of Cosmic Calomine Lotion, please.