I might be cranky. Wait here while I check.
I won't be a minute. Pick up a magazine or pour yourself a coffee or cut the grass. Not my grass; I have retired from having a lawn.
Okay, I'm back. I've run a few tests and the results were somewhat conclusive: I am indeed cranky. So, at least we know what we are dealing with.
I didn't see it coming. I left the door ajar last evening while I carried in a shelf I have been working on and aside of the 30 million mosquitoes that scurried in behind me, I suspect a dose of cranky crept in and hid under my bed.