Some days you just fight to hang on, to hold your tongue, to be especially nice to the poor woman who claims not to know what an 'alley' is as you struggle to give her explicit directions to the coffee shop that is literally fifty strides away from your front door... you just keep smiling and breathing, and, when no one is looking, you quietly slam your head on the counter. And smile, and breathe, and thwack. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Today might have been one of those days.
I'll try again tomorrow... where's the Excedrin?