I didn't even get put 'on notice'

Mom: It's as if you didn't exist for me. My life is simpler without you in it.
A.: Fair enough. That can be arranged.
Mom: What makes you think you have to yell?
A.: I have to yell because otherwise, words don't get through to you. I can say "give me a minute" four times politely but it's only when I yell it that you stop asking me questions about my dishwasher.

I know: I don't actually have to yell. I don't do it deliberately; I snap. Perhaps if I were a better person, I wouldn't snap. I would factor into my reaction the fact that my mother is elderly, not feeling well, and not going to change. I would love to do that: I would love to train myself to not snap when someone is nagging at me when I'm trying to concentrate. I do it to Gracie, too, and when it happens she knows I'm not f*ing around. It's my gut reaction. So we come back to my admission of fault from the day I got here: I am not a saint. I am not a Buddhist monk. I am not the epitome of patience. Part of me would like to be. Ultimately, I own my reaction, no matter what my mother does to bring it on. She can insult me all day and be in my face while I'm trying to read all evening, and a better person would let it roll right off. I am not yet that person.