Dad would let the little things pile up, and then explode once they'd gotten too much. He very much had a volcano temper, and, like a volcano, you couldn't step on any of the lava flows, after, or you'd get really rather scorched.
I have an avalanche temper. Little things, and not so little things, fall down on me. Now, there's a chance that the sun will come out (figuratively) and clear things up. It often does! Sometimes fully, sometimes even extra ... and sometimes not entirely fully.
If things have gone badly enough, I have a whole mental hillside full of snow, sitting there perfectly peacefully. This is hard to tell from a mental hillside full of snow that isn't dangerous at all. I have trouble telling the difference, unless things are falling on it, because it's just sitting there until disturbed. Sometimes I will take a ski pole and stick it down, and comment that that's piling up pretty good there, ayup. Some of the more hazardous hills have permanent boards with marked rules driven into them.
I make little mental notes to myself, but don't really document them anywhere, because it's not the sort of thing that I track.
Sometimes, just a little thing, two or three flakes at most, will come along, and WHUMP, there slides the hillside, and once the flying snow-dust has settled, there's a pile at the bottom of the hill, and the side is pretty well cleared off, and often enough someone has absolutely no clue what just happened, but they found themselves quietly de-added. Why? Well, because they snowed on me that time, and because they touched off an avalanche, because they kept snowing, and didn't do enough melting. Nothing spectacular, but it just kept piling up. Most times it's things that are my business whether they annoy me or not, and they're doing nothing actually wrong. By the time it's gotten to me enough that I notice it, it's already sliding, and isn't nobody going to benefit by it heating up all of a sudden when it's sliding.
Sometimes, a weather front comes along and dumps a whole heap of snow on something, in a way that's not going to get cleared out any time soon. That, that I notice. Sometimes the snowplows get broken out. Sometimes they don't. Sometimes it falls on more than one slope at once. Sometimes when one slope goes, it touches off a few more that were getting ready.
Moving writers group was like that. Little things were piling up, and then suddenly it was much too much. And we moved.
While it's piling up, the plans are also stacking up, when it's something will take planning to fix. I have no idea that I'm actually devoting brain-cycles to this, except that I devote brain-cycles to assorted contingencies for whatever happens, and I can't consciously track it all. But once it gets triggered, I've already made the decision, and anyone attempting to argue the decision is going to be doing it from the bottom of a big heap of snow.