When I’m going through one of these periods of sleep disruption (whether random or systematic), I’m not a very nice person. That has significance only because, while some people are not very nice most of the time, I’m only not very nice very little of the time. It’s an aberration for me, not a character trait. Or maybe it’s a character trait that I’m more readily able to suppress when I get enough sleep.

Just about any form of human behavior can manifest this phenomenon. I can be not nice at all to other drivers. I can be downright abusive of inanimate objects around the house that dare to get in my way. I stumble more easily when I’m sleep-deprived, and then I take it out on those things I stumble over. Even things that don’t move, like walls, get in my way and feel my wrath. It’s not much fun to be around me the week after we change the clocks.

When things are going well, I can be as patient as a tree. I can be so patient you might wonder if I were fully aware of my surroundings. You might think I hadn’t heard or digested the word or deed that would have made anyone else grow visibly annoyed and volubly irritated. You might even admire my patience, when I’m not laid low by lack of sleep.

This week, on the other hand, you’d have no problem differentiating me from a tree. If you called me at the wrong moment, you might have heard it in my voice on the phone, even if I really wanted to talk to you. I’ve temporarily lost both the reflex to be patient and the inclination to feign patience in situations where patience isn’t necessarily called for. I’m not quite myself. I trust it will pass, before I lose the rest of my patience. And my sense of humor. And my thumbs.