Irked

I get irritated every tuesday on my walk home from school. There's always this old man, more medium-old than old, who sits outside a church and sings at the top of his lungs, flinging his faith into the air. His voice is raw, solemn, unbearable. Everytime I pass him I have violent thoughts of wrestling his hym book out of his hands and bashing his head against the wall. It bothers me that every tuesday this holy man provokes my unsanctimonious thoughts; that whenever I encounter his figure hunched against the wall of the church, it becomes obvious how easily suspectible I am to annoyance. Everytime I encounter him I encounter my own weakness. It's a little thing to get vexed over, yet I'm more irritated, this tuesday than all the other tuesdays. Maybe it's PMS or something.