Some days I can ignore it.

The squeaky windshield wipers, the consistent dropped calls, the copier that takes half the day just to warm up.

I take deep breaths, think happy thoughts, let whatever happens just happen.

Usually I'm good about handling these daily annoyances. I put up my force field, let the obnoxious surfer or catty salesgirl just roll off, disappear. Not important, better things to worry about.

But I'll be honest. It's not easy. Sometimes I feel like I'm "this close" to losing it.

Like the other day, when a bicyclist yelled at me to get out of his way — on the sidewalk.

Or when a salesgirl suggested I try a different style of jeans — the ones cut for wider hips.

Deep breathing and happy thoughts stood no chance.

I don't know if, with age, I've become worse at handling these annoyances or just better at identifying them.

When I was younger, slow drivers and insurance companies didn't bother me as much. I never calculated how much of my paycheck just went to pay for pothole repairs. But now, I can barely tolerate the ring tone of my co-worker's cell phone.

Oh, there were things that annoyed me back then. Like watching a movie narrated by laser pointers. Or composing the best e-mail of your life only to have your computer freeze as you're sending it and losing that — along with the last 20 songs you've downloaded — forever.

But it seems more of the little things are getting to me these days.

Like the driver who cuts me off, then drives just below the speed limit. Or the bank teller who sees me next in line, smiles, then puts up the "Next window" sign.

One, two, three, breathe.

My very patient boyfriend has been good about managing my stress. After three years, he's figured out that fixing the slip covers on the sofas and putting the milk away are easy ways to keep my annoyance level down.

No, he's not whipped. He does this because he knows how annoyed I can get lately, especially with him.

Like when he lost the $100 sunglasses I bought him in less than a month. Or when he convinced me to switch to a cell-phone company that has a faulty definition of "coverage area." (I'm still mad about that.)

I've been trying to hold back the wrath, keep the beast buried within. It took a lot of self-restraint when he kept putting off the grocery shopping, then drove my car into a pole.

But I've gotten better. I've actually whittled my list of pet peeves down to just one thing: Anything annoying.

Trust me, that's as narrow as I could get.

Reach Catherine E. Toth at ctoth@honoluluadvertiser.com.