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Next door have been having building work done for what feels like forever.  It’s insanely irritating trying to eat my breakfast while there are 4 builders screaming a conversation at each other which essentially consists of a stream of expletives.  Hardly a relaxing start to the morning.

They’re moving on to replace the guttering today, and my Dad has asked if they’ll do ours as well (we live in a semi so the houses are attached) and although it makes complete sense to do them both at once, things like this – changes in routine, having people around etc – I need notice!  I need time to prepare.  Yes, I know that’s silly.  I didn’t know they’d be here until this morning when they bloomin’ arrived so I’m less than happy now.

I’m sitting up in my room too scared to wander out because they could be at any of the upstairs windows just staring in, I hate the thought.  On the flip side, I hate how inflexible I am, realistically it’s no big deal to have people working outside on the window/guttering and it shouldn’t be an issue, but to me, it’s a change in ‘the norm’ and I feel uneasy.  It was the same deal yesterday with my inflexibility, Dad suggested Sunday Lunch out with some of their friends which I agreed to because they’re lovely people and have been great with me & a great support for my Mum.  I was really looking forward to it until the table was booked for 3pm.  To me – this was a disaster – 3pm?!  How was I meant to structure my eats around that?!  My routine would be ruined.  I eat lunch at 1.30pm, no way was I going to be hungry for a big Roast Dinner at 3pm but I’d already had my morning snack so couldn’t even put that off to stretch it out a bit.

It’s the whole mood swing thing.  I went from excited to see our family friends to insanely worried that I’d either be too hungry or too full by the time it got to 3pm.  I wish I didn’t care.  I wish it didn’t wind me up so much.  I wish I hadn’t made Dad feel bad for organising something nice, he didn’t do anything wrong at all, but I know my drop in mood and quietness made him feel like he did.

All turned out well.  We had a gorgeous meal out, with a lovely pud (obviously) and great conversation.  As is always the case, the event is actually a lot less scary than I build it up to be.  The anxiety is always worse than the actual thing.  I know this, and yet I still let myself get panicked.

Now the builders are singing right outside my bedroom window.  Oh dear.  Would it be rude to whack on my music really loud and drown out what sounds like cats being strangled?

Must. Keep. Calm.

 

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