(Snit)

I like snits. They exemplify the axiom of the human folly of thinking the temporal is permanent. This is one of the life’s more important lessons, taught by the Goddess of Experience. Beside, snits don’t lead further along a downhill emotional slide which eventually involves money grabbing lawyers.
‘A little snit’ is redundant. Whoever heard of a big snit? Then it’s an ado, a commotion, a kerfuffle, or maybe even a problem. A snit is just plain by comparison. It doesn’t last long, maybe ten minutes at the most. There are lots of valid reasons for snits, and like acne blemishes, they tend to disappear as adulthood approaches. Somehow the feminine gender seems more prone to them, but males are not entirely immune to the quiet disruption. Actually neither are toddlers and geriatric patients, well-versed in the rhythms of life. For tots, snits are often termed minor tantrums. The pain goes away, but there are more tears. For the old guys and gals, snits are just wee grumps caused by events such as late lunches or favorite soap operas being pre-empted by breaking news. Even cats get in snits, especially to let the humans know they disapproved of that bath they just had forced along their furry bottoms. But they soon return as purry as ever, having ventured beyond the small emotional ordeal. Perhaps they actually forgot.
Lots of things cause snits. Theft of clothing by a sibling, an unwelcome telemarketing call at dinnertime, and a spouse forgetting to buy milk on the way home, are prime examples. Many involve food, friends, or foes. All involve fools, namely the person having the snit. We all have been snit fools. Well, maybe not. 99% admit to it. The other 1% are lying. Perhaps only the mythical mystical enlightened masters of the world are immune. I certainly wouldn’t know. I can’t finish this typing right now because I’m in one. Something about spilled milk … err coffee.