Today I am tired

I am not ill any more, yay. I am not really anxious, this is good. The sniper has been gone for several weeks*. I have even done some useful stuff in the last week. But I am starting to drift and if I don’t get my act together (especially around paperwork/admin) I will be creating anxiety for myself. And I didn’t have enough sleep last night. I’m blaming hormone induced insomnia, but having the laptop open in bed didn’t help. Sleep started around 2am? The screamy tantrum at 6.30 am didn’t help either (thank you for dealing with that one hubby). Preceded by the screamy tantrum at bedtime Sunday night and Monday night which also aren’t filling me with enthusiasm. Beginning to think school is bad for the boy.

Note to self.

More sleep, less internet.

More exercise, less pffaffing.

More patience, less shouting.

You know it helps.

*Don’t think I got around to telling you about the sniper. Before going upstairs to bed, I check the lights are off and the house is locked up. I take the snib of the front door and see if it will open a crack so I know if the mortice needs locking, it usually does. If so I lock it. Then put the snib back on. Then go upstairs. Perfectly normal. One day it occurred to me that this testing of the door is a regular sign, a give away to anyone observing of what I’m doing. For some reason, my imagination provided me with a watching sniper, who now knew to aim the gun through the door at the stairs to fell me on my way upstairs. This is clearly ludicrous in my part of the world (20 years ago when I was living in Moss Side it might have been a slightly more credible fear, but nowadays, not at all). I have never believed that the sniper was there. But I still felt uncomfortable enough that I was conscious of my steps after locking the door, trying to take an unpredictable route or running up stairs to avoid the non existent bullet. This went on for, I’m not sure, weeks, maybe months. And recently I noticed it has stopped. Which is nice.

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