I am getting crochity

Crochity? Crotchity? What I mean to say is that I've been noticing that my patience is wearing more than thin these days when it comes to, well, just about everything. Does this mean I am officially old? I used to wince when my balsy aunt would yell at waiters who gave us bad service, now it's one of my biggest pet peeves (bad service).  I also can't stand slow, street-crossing text-messaging pedestrians (although I am guilty of that) as well as anyone on a bike, motorcycle, Segueway or vespa and in my way or in my peripheral vision. I want to ram into every cab I see and every person waiting for a bus on a corner and stepping out into onto the street while I am trying to make a right turn. Maybe my new, significantly faster car has turned me into a first-rate A-hole, or maybe I really am getting old. I do find myself, on more than one occasion, stopping the radio dial on 100.3 Love FM (no joke) and skipping past my former flames..B96 and WGCI. Don't get me wrong, I still love me some Lil' Wayne and anything on the XM radio dial between 62-68 (preferring the rhyme and sometimes raw), but for the most part, I feel, well, crotchity.