Despite getting to bed early last evening ─ 'twas 9:49 p.m. ─ I had considerable difficulty finding sleep.
For one thing, my wife had arrived home a little earlier in the evening, so I left the bedroom light on and wore a blindfold ─ two bandannas folded for that purpose, and held in place with an old fleece headband that I stretch under my chin and up around the top of my head.
She was late coming to bed, and I cannot say that I recall that occurrence ─ perhaps by then I was asleep.
But I was awake before 3:00 a.m. and decided to rise at that hour to soon get to work on the day's content assignment for the post I have in progress at one of my six hosted websites.
I fared very well with that effort, and was completed the assignment ahead of 6:00 a.m. ─ rarely can I finish these assignments under three hours. In fact, they can take four hours or more.
So instead of bedding down on the floor here in front of my computer to avoid disrupting my wife's needed sleep, I returned to our bed in full expectation of having an excellent reunion with blissful unconsciousness.
Alas, I was probably awake as much as I was able to briefly nap over the next better-than-four hours ─ that period was punctuated by numerous mini-naps and much dreaming.
It was nearly 10:15 a.m. when I checked the time and then got myself up for the morning. And soon I was downstairs, joining my younger brother in the living room to watch T.V. via our T9 Android 8.1 TV Box.
He doesn't know how to operate it, so that task is mine alone.
Normally my wife rises around 10:00 a.m. to ready for her 11:00 a.m. start time at her friend's Thai restaurant, but she never got up until at least 10:30 a.m. and displayed no sign that she needed to be going anywhere.
Only into the afternoon did I learn that she did not have to work today.
It was a flawlessly sunny day, but chilly. One of the radio announcers claimed that this month is on record for being the coldest February ever recorded for this area.
Anyway, with my wife home, I was unable to seek a somewhat needed nap. My brother got his; and reasonably early into the afternoon, he left to end up drinking somewhere.
It may have been around 3:30 p.m. that my wife left, saying that she would see us again on Wednesday.
So with her and my brother away, I was able to use the latter's bedroom for some exercising, mostly centred around my 43½-pound dumbbell.
My bedroom is too cramped; and since my youngest stepson had been home all day, the living room was not an option.
Earlier, I had used some sheers to drastically 'prune' branches from two flowering shrubs outside and just below our living room window.
They are the same type of plants, but one gets quite large blue flowers, and the other gets while blooms. I have no idea what the shrubs are identified as, but they were beginning to blot out too much of the living room view because of how expansive and tall they were becoming.
I just hope that I didn't cripple them. Their blooms are a favourite with bees.
But speaking of crippling, lots of people seek out relief from their nearly crippling aches and pains through massages.
I have only ever had one massage in my life, and that was an unsolicited massage I was tricked into having on a Thailand beach ─ one of the Thai women serving as my tour guides surreptitiously arranged it with one of the beach 'masseuses' who flog that service at the beach.
Gosh, that was just over 16 years ago!
I'll probably never have the experience again, unfortunately.
I would have liked to have experienced one of those deep-tissue massages ─ the ones that approach being painful to endure. I think that I have taken for granted that these kinds are the most therapeutic.
The following article makes the argument that the gentler massages are every bit as beneficial:
LifeSpa.com
I recognize the priceless value of physical human intimacy in gentler massages, and thus I would never question that the ecstasy engendered by this kind of massage could almost work miracles.
Obviously, I wouldn't be interested in having some dude supply that connection, of course.
And no ─ I am not talking about some kind of "happy endings" massage that is a form of prostitution.
Nevertheless, the sensual aspect of a light massage is undeniable ─ especially for recipients unaccustomed to being massaged. It is an intimate experience, after all.
I deeply miss the intimacy my wife and I once shared...but that's talk for my private blog.
I am going to drop the topic.
Google Photos has yet again created a collage from photos in an old Google Photos album of mine ─ I think that this is the third consecutive day that Google Photos has visited that 2014 album.
I must have been rather prolific about photographing a snowfall that had occurred around this time back then.
Here is the collage ─ the photos in it were clearly taken on a beautifully sunny day:
The top two photos were taken of the backyard, while the bottom two involve the front yard.
Let's look at the original two photos of the backyard, the first photo of which is a capture of the back of the house. That huge evergreen beyond the top of the house was actually in our neighbour's front yard, but the woman had it removed a couple or so months ago. The 'tree' was actually a cedar and a tree like a spruce that had practically fused together at their bases:
And now here are the bottom two photos involving the view of the front yard and the cul-de-sac we live in:
I still have to create a post at my private blog, so I will call it quits with my post here and get it published.
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