It’s taken me most of my life, and I am still not very good at it: To learn when not to talk to people.
Particularly in the morning.
Irritability, even when the irritable manages to keep it under control, is palatable. It makes me nervous when I am around the irritable. I am chirpy, not least in the morning. Thus I know I get on my son’s nerves, just as I did his father’s and when I was still at home my own father’s. To this day I wouldn’t dream of calling home before, say, I don’t know: Eleven? No. Make that one in the afternoon.
Forgive me for generalizing: People are at their worst in the morning. Particularly if they are male.
I wish I were an owl. Thus I’d be asleep by the time everyone else emerges. Only snag being that I’d have to hunt for mice. And eat them raw. Which would put even me in not such a good mood.