Irritation and Patience (2nd attempt)

Sitting this morning doing some necessary sewing and not therefore in the best of moods, I found my patience becoming more frayed by the minute listening to the hysterical yapping of the animated dish-mop which thinks it's a dog in the garden of a house at the back of mine.

My irritation grew to the point of implosion and as I opened the back door ready to turn the hose on the offending hairy mouse I saw that it was doing its tiny best to warn anybody/somebody that there was an intruder about.

That the intruder in question was a window cleaner at the top of a ladder some three doors down made not one iota of difference to the minute would-be gladiator which was by now virtually screaming.

This finally reached the ears of his owner who opened the door and yelled at him in her native Hungarian to shut up.  He did, and all was silent again.

Although this was a reasonable response to a perceived threat the noise had got to me, and combined with my underlying exasperation at the none-appearance of my repair man (tumble-dryer) who had promised to come late morning or very early afternoon and who has still not shown at 3.45 pm, is sufficient to warrant irritation on the Richter scale of about 9.

I always understood that as one grew older ones levels of patience increased, while the ease with which we are irritated decreases at the same rate.

So far this has not proved to be the case with me.  Never one of my virtues (if indeed I have any), patience appears to be a 'bridge too far', while the causes of irritation, annoyance and sheer bad temper seem to be on the increase day by day.

Has anyone a magic cure?

Oh, and by the way, the repair man is still nowhere to be seen.

Grrrr!