Hyper anxiety, or a form of PTSD?

Wednesday  afternoon my ex turned up to lay the parquet floor in my vestibule.

Before I say anything more, I  have to stress that he was not doing this out of "the goodness of his heart", I seriously doubt he has any, but you'll find out why if you read on. 

Anyway, he arrives, starts ordering me about "move this, shift that!" No please, no thank you, just very blunt orders. ...no....NOT requests. 

Then he reads the instructions on the material.  The floor needed priming first. A simple dilute PVA glue mix....but did he asks if I had any, nope! "I bet you don't have any PVA, have you!" Statement , not question.   I knew exactly where it was, so I got it out, and put it on the sink, with a pot.  "Oh hell! I need a paint brush to apply it" ( All swear words will be replaced by more palatable words, starting with hell....as that is definitely not what he said.)

Surprise, surprise, he had one in his tool caddy. 

Then he tore open the packet of parquet flooring. I have had it a while, and the backing had degraded in some bits...so he ripped open the second pack. Air at this point turning blue due to swear words being used. 

"I can't f@¢¥π®€ fit this, it will take for-f......-ever! I'll have to cut every piece." ( There was much more swearing than I am putting ...in fact, from now on, please just imagine that every other word is one.)

I pointed out that no he would only have to cut the edges.   At this point I was feeling stressed out, and suggested, calmly, that we went to the local DIY place and got something else.  ( My parquet floor wasn't going to happen.) 

Less than half an hour later we were back with some click-fit flooring.  He laid the underlay, and said it was too late to continue. It was.  He left saying "I don't know when I can come to finish it.". On reflection , maybe I should have just told him to bill me for what he'd done, and I would get someone else to finish it off.   I did point out that Thursday had forecast rain all day, he works outside a lot. 

Luckily I was up early Thursday, as he rang to tell me that was "pissing raining, so he'd be down to fit the click-fit. 

It was all day, every other word, mostly to himself, swearing. Grunts and groans every minute, barking orders at me, and he doesn't move around at a measured pace to get stuff done, he rushes, knocking things over, which causes more swearing, as he has to right things. You get the picture. I got so fed up with being spoken to like something that he wiped off his shoes, or worse, that I asked him point blank, if he spoke to his other customers like that. He of course saw nothing wrong with how he was speaking to me, and said yes. I just told him that I bet that he didn't. Then told him to speak to me normally, as I wasn't having him talk to me like that.  It quieted him down for a while, but after he left I was shaking, felt sick, and it had brought back to me exactly why I decided to divorce him back in 2000.  

A friend later told me that it was PTSD that I had just put myself through.  Well, never again will I ask him to do any jobs for me, neither paid, or a quick unpaid/usually bartered for.  Oh yes, I forgot to say that if he wants a pair of trousers turning up, or another small sewing job. I do them and never ask for payment.  Plus, while he was here I made him food to eat. 

So once I have paid him, I intend to distance myself.   For the good of my own mental health.

The wolf in Red Riding Hood

 Something just occured to me.  Bear with me...you must know that my mind goes off on tangents for no reason by now.

Anyway, I was playing Odd Socks, and all I needed to complete the Red Riding Hood set was the wolf, and this daft question popped into my head.

"Is it a cross-dressing wolf, or something similar?", because he...the wolf is always referred to as a he, never she, in any tales that have wolves as the "baddie". 

I don't need an answer, it just made me chuckle to think that the wolf might have been really unsettled having to dress up as a woman in order to fool, and hopefully eat Red Riding Hood. 

If my weird reflections make you smile, or chuckle, you're welcome.

Self checkout, boon or curse?

 You've probably all seen the things going round Facebook about self checkouts, and in some shops, a shop assistant will stand supervising the use of them. Also sometimes checking the receipts as folk leave the shop. 

This tale made me think it over. 

I won't use them as I am disabled, however the growing trend for self checkouts might be a good thing for some, for others chatting to the shop assistants might be their only contact with folk from one shopping trip to the next.  Back in the past, when I worked on a fruit and veg concession, there was a lady who would come in two or three times a week. My boss asked me why she did that. "Why doesn't she buy more at once? Then she wouldn't have to visit us as much."  As I knew the lady from when I had delivered milk, and collected milk money as a teenager , I told my boss that she lived alone. She would visit as much for a chat with us, as to buy her fruit and veg. 

So, the rise of self checkouts is isolating the elder generation, the people who live alone, and I can't help thinking that it could be contributing to the rise of dementia. 

An experience from a few weeks ago

 As some of you might know, I occasionally tutor.

Yesterday I went to meet a potential pupil, and their parents told me something that horrified me. 

As a lot of you will know, if you're required to have an up-to-date DBS certificate, if you're working with children, (there are other categories as well, such as vulnerable adults,).

However, when this family asked another potential tutor about it, he got all cagey, and advised them to look elsewhere.

My point is, if you are thinking of employing a tutor for your children, or maybe a carer for a vulnerable adult....ASK about the DBS certificate.. if the potential tutor has one, they will not be offended at being asked, and should either show you their actual certificate, or give you the unique number so that you can check it out for yourself.

There might have been a very good reason the other potential tutor, for this family, not having a DBS certificate, but I doubt it.  As my pupils come to me referred through an agency, and the agency has holding the DBS as a mandatory requirement to be on their books, any tutor from the same agency will be ok. 

This family asked about DBS, a CV and safeguarding prior to even meeting me though, which is the first time I have been asked.  I wasn’t concerned, as basically, when I meet the family, as I did yesterday, it is for all intents and purposes, a job interview, and as that, you should expect such questions. 

Stressful time

 This last week, or so has set my fibromyalgia off.

I occasionally tutor, and last week, after a few false starts, I finally got to meet the prospective pupil.  We seemed to get on ok, so tutoring started on Monday of this week, although at the meeting the next day, Friday, had been agreed upon. 

So after a "wild goose" chase on Friday, I finally got to tutor the pupil.   The session was meant to last two hours, but after just over 55 minutes, the pupil said that they needed the bathroom. After ten minutes, I became concerned, and apparently, they'd had enough, and gone to bed. 

Going on Tuesday, I did wonder if a repeat might be played out. However, not quite. I got a variation on a theme. The pupil had to be coaxed to be present in the room.  They didn't engage properly, and deliberately "banged" their head as an excuse to leave the room.

I am really sorry that tutoring didn't work out, but the pupil did not want a tutor, they wanted a captive audience for their antics. 

All  this has caused me stress and anxiety. I have been crying for seemingly no reason. So today I rang up and cancelled the agreement.  I feel sad about it, as the pupil obviously needs help and there was a glimmer of someone who could do well, if they chose to. 

Whoops! And this year's Panetone colour of the year is.....

 MAGENTA!

I usually blog about how picky the colour choice is, yet magenta is a lovely colour. Very vibrant, and much better than their wishy-washy choices for quite a few years. 

I can't think of much else to say, other than I actually like this "colour of the year" .