Lately, it feels like everything has been getting on my nerves.

Not one big thing. Just a thousand little things piling up like old AOL trial CDs in a desk drawer. Work. Bills. Responsibilities. People. Notifications. The endless stream of nonsense that somehow requires my immediate attention every five minutes. Most days I feel like I’m running Windows 95 with forty-seven browser windows open and somebody keeps clicking “OK” on error messages faster than I can read them.

I’ve noticed that my patience meter has been running pretty close to empty. Stuff I would normally laugh off now feels like sandpaper. Everybody wants something. Everybody needs something. Everybody has an opinion. The world feels louder than it used to. Maybe it’s social media. Maybe it’s getting older. Maybe it’s just years of carrying too much and pretending it’s no big deal. Whatever the reason, the batteries aren’t holding a charge like they used to.

The funny thing is that burnout doesn’t show up with flashing warning lights. It creeps in quietly. One day you’re fine. Then suddenly you’re tired all the time, annoyed by everything, and wondering why even simple tasks feel like you’re pushing a broken shopping cart uphill. You keep telling yourself you’ll slow down after the next project, the next obligation, the next crisis, but there’s always another one waiting in line.

So I’ve been trying to unplug a little more. Spend time outside. Hang out with the dogs. Listen to some punk rock. Sit somewhere quiet without a screen glowing in my face. The world can wait a few minutes. I spent the 90s without being connected 24 hours a day and somehow survived. Right now, a system reboot sounds a lot more useful than another software update.