Right. Up. To. HERE. A phrase that goes with a brisk horizontal salute where the speaker’s four fingers indicate the precise level up to which it has been had by them. Bulging eyes and a slight quivering of the hand are optional.

And what is that level? I can remember roughly three different levels that my parents would pantomime:

• A brief wave at the chin; the speaker has had quite a bit but is still dealing with it.
• Hand snapped flat right at the nose, eyes glaring over the top; the speaker has had what can safely be called “enough”.
• At or even above the hairline, eyes burning coals beneath: the speaker has had way too much. Of whatever it is.

And what is that ineffable “it”, I wonder? Frustration? Nonsense? Sass and back-talk? Simple noise?

Maybe it’s as personal as DNA, some hidden capacity which can only be measured by overfilling.

Whatever it is—I have had it. I can feel it. I have had it UP TO HERE. You can imagine my fingers quivering like a struck gong, bouncing against the very top of my forehead, almost so high as to surmount the crest of my cranium (and then transform into “I didn’t get that”), my few remaining tufts of hair visible above the barrier like grass peeping through the cracks of a sidewalk.

As everyone knows, when you’ve had it up to there, it’s time for a change. I’ve had it with a particular situation at work that I cannot change, so I need to walk away from it before it changes me.