I have two weeks to really get irritated but we’ll leave tax day out of the conversation today. I had a stressful day recently that couldn’t be salvaged if I’d spent a month eating wild mushrooms and bunked at a remote monastery.

My first irritant of the week centered on trying to get a fast meal because I was in a hurry. “Fast Food” is a word that should denote a “fast” meal. It seems lately anytime I visit these coronary kingdoms, my wait is in prophetic time. A second means a year. You catch my drift.

I chose the Taco Bell drive-thru because there was only one car at the window. Cheap + Fast = A happy me. Just a hint for those who desire speed of service, watch out for the innocent looking soccer mom driving a little Toyota. I thought she was merely getting a taco or two for her hungry little munchkins. I should have brought my copy of “War and Peace.” I didn’t just wait; when I started the Dead Sea was only sick.

Multiple carry-out bags of varying sizes kept being passed out the little window to the car ahead of me. At one point, I’d thought she’d ordered a Brontosaurus burger for the Flintstones because one bag was huge. Nothing steams my clams like choosing the wrong line; I don’t care where it is! I know it happens to you, but for me, it seems like it’s celestial conspiracy to raise my blood pressure.

I’m at a buffet, two senior citizens get in front of me and conduct there own version of a rolling roadblock. They’ll meander, chit chat about the weather, balance their plates on the rail of their walkers, then proceed right into their very own organ recital that would make a physician blush. “Yes Edna, I had kidney stones… well I asked my doctor for the bikini cut when he took out my gallbladder.” I could have fed a little league team in the length of time it took me to walk five paces. Whatever you do, stay away from the jello salad area! Someone could get hurt over there!

Late for church recently, I found myself stuck behind a slow moving farm tractor that couldn’t have been going more than 15-to-20 miles per hour. Each time I endeavored to pass, one lone vehicle would come out of nowhere from the opposite direction and keep me from being able to pass. It seemed like a celestial joke or conspiracy. Not one car approached on the corners or blind spots. But the moment I’d make my move on a straightaway, one sole car would miraculously appear, ruining my chances to get by Old McDonald. I drove this way for over ten miles. I arrived at church late and my hair looked like I’d exposed it to static electricity. I can assure you, I was feeling 50% less warm and fuzzy than usual and my vehicle looked like I’d hit a hay wagon because of all the straw clinging to my grill.

Just two days later, worn out and tired, I opted to have a rare sleep- in. I gave my keys to my wife and said, “I’m going to camp under my covers and forget the world today”. She laughed; I think she knew that could never happen. My little respite would  last all of 30 minutes. I’d forgotten that of all the days in 30, this was the one where the pest control people made their monthly inspection and sprayed.

I think today, I’ll make an appointment with my doctor. At least I  have faith that there is at least one place that runs smoothly and there’s no waiting lines.