PTSD

Well, this is pretty bad.

I've been a bit low, working on a various number of things that play to my weaknesses rather than my strength. Because I'm rubbish at multi-tasking I get my head down and plough on through. But tired, tired! With my base mood so low I made a mistake today.

New sofas come on Thursday. Carpet man will be putting new carpets down on Wednesday evening. I may have given him and his companion the impression that R is away this week. It is true, and I would rather not have these two strangers know it.

He rattled me somewhat when I mentioned money, saying he would like cash to buy the carpet with. This is not how we do.

'If you don't trust me,' he said, 'we can do a money transfer on Wednesday.' Huh. I'm not betraying anyone in wanting the service before paying for it. I didn't mistrust him until he said that.

But now I do and I'm thoroughly creeped out.

And I am alone here.

His eyes have a slightly intense aspect to them, I can't put my finger on what it is but something about him makes me uncomfortable. He's garrulous and amicable, no reason for this weird vigilance, this sense of Beware! Probably doing the poor man a real disservice. But for all he is easily in his 40/50s he strikes me as strong, much stronger than my last assailant. I would have no chance without the drop on him. No reason for any of this, almost a decade of this ridiculous issue. My bedside light is on, and I can't believe that the shadow it casts on the main light looks like a balaclava hood. I suddenly find myself wishing I had a knife or a gun. A pair of scissors from the office is camped under the pillow beside me. I am aware of every noise.

And I must sleep, long day today and probably tomorrow too.

But I can't.

R isn't back til Friday.