Short Temper In The Morning

Didn't get much sleep this morning. Schedule over the weekend threw me off. Should've gone to bed earlier Sunday night/Monday morning, but didn't.
Woken up by Grandmother. Still feelin' very groggy. Things were OK, but I thought something was off. Grandmother was quite spry and chipper.

When I tested her blood, I checked the time: 7:21 a.m. And that clock's fast. She woke me up ten minutes before I wanted to. And I was angry. But irrationally so.

What I did next is something I'm not proud of. I blog this to understand why I did it in an effort to not do it again. I don't know if that's possible; I'm always at my worst in the morning. But the original aim of Wailing And Failing is to work through and eliminate my shortcomings.

This is what I did, and I want I meant to "communicate" to Grandmother my disapproval of her waking me up ten minutes early:

• Looked at her as she was opening an alcoholic wipe.  Stared at her as if she was stupid.  Why are you opening that?  You don't fucking see the insulin needle anywhere in front of you, do you?
• Waited, passive-aggressively, to see if she would at least make a move to the refrigerator, where I put the insulin.  She does do that nowadays, and I'd appreciate it now, since she woke me up early and stuff.  This was your fucking idea, why don't you get your bushy-tailed ass up to the fridge and get it yourself?
• I sigh, not overly loud yet loud enough to, I think, have her hear it.  Fine, you goddamn deaf, blind and dumb bat, I'll do it myself.
• I finally wait long enough to bait my Grandmother into finally getting around to what I think is her problem: "Where's the insulin?" she asked.  Good -- got you in my manipulative trap.
• Gesturing like she's a mute, I lay out my palm and wave it towards the refrigerator.  Well of course it's in the fridge, where it always is.  Now fetch.
• I sigh as I lower myself back into my chair, like that hydraulic sound you hear when a forklift lowers its fork.  You should be doing this work all by your fucking self, Granny, since you woke me up so motherfucking early in the morning, Christ. ...
• And then she walks back from the kitchen without the insulin.  Where the fuck is it?  Oh, right ... I forgot to put it in the fridge last night.  It's in my room.  Let me go get it.  Whoops.

When I went back inside, I checked my watch.  By the time I get it, go back to the dining room, give it to Grandmother, and go back into my bed, the alarm would go off.  I turn off the alarm on my watch as soon as it beeps and hit the snooze button on my cell.  I loll in bed another eight minutes before the alarm goes off again, but I don't fall back to sleep because I now think of all the things I should be doing now that I'm up early.

I'm trying, and I really don't want to disrespect and bully my Grandmother.  When I reflect on what I did this morning, all I can think of is ... My Fucking Father.  He hasn't acted civilly towards her ever since I left for college, and maybe even since my childhood.  He complained on Saturday about how she's a drain on the household utilities, but I think it's overblown.  And I sublimate his behavior towards her and copy it when she pisses me off the same way she pisses him off.  And I don't like it, because My Fucking Father's an asshole, and I don't want to spread the poison I learn from him.

But even after I vow not to follow down My Fucking Father's path, this morning happens.  Will I ever learn?  And can I ever change?