My hope of an early bedtime last evening was dashed: at 8:20 p.m. or so, my younger brother arrived home from wherever he had gone early that afternoon to do his drinking.
However, he seemed unexpectedly controlled, and wasn't obnoxious or challenging.
And so it was that we sat up into the midnight hour watching episodes ─ via our T9 Android 8.1 TV Box ─ of some of the T.V. series that we follow.
One series that we are now done with is The Last Ship ─ we went through the final two episodes that evening.
The episodes were most exciting, and undoubtedly served to help keep my brother conscious. However, the last sequence in the series' finale episode was far too hoaky for my liking.
The Nathan James destroyer had been hopelessly damaged by a battleship and all the surviving crew members abandoned the slowly listing and sinking vessel ─ all except for invulnerably heroic Admiral Tom Chandler.
The death-dealing battleship had done its job from far off, but for some infernally inexplicable reason it drew close enough ─ and was unfathomably broadside to boot ─ for Chandler to fire up the engines for one last hurrah and somehow drive forward and collide with the battleship amidships, thereby resulting in an enormous explosions that would send both vessels to a watery grave.
Considering how shrewdly the battleship had always been operated, why in blazes would it have come almost right up to the destroyer that was clearly going to sink ─ and plant themselves broadside to it, as well?
It was ridiculous to this landlubber.
I also didn't appreciate the lengthy and nearly metaphysical visions that apparently drowning Admiral Tom Chandler was experiencing before he finally snapped to his senses and swam up to the surface of the ocean to be rescued.
I guess we were to accept that he somehow had set the dying destroyer on automatic and ─ while still implausibly far enough from the other ship to be spared the enormous fiery explosions and subsequent spread of fiery fuel that I would have expected from something like that ─ became the sole survivor of that awful kamikaze-like collision.
I can't imagine why the battleship was content to sit broadside to enjoy the close-up show of the Nathan James sinking, and entirely ignore the considerable numbers of lifeboats on the far side of the Nathan James filled with escaping crew members.
This entire sequence of nonsense practically spoiled the finish of the series for me.
Anyway, as already said, bedtime was late, and there would be no chance that I would be rising too early to effectively get much done this early morning. I don't now recall just when I did get up, but it might have been around 7:00 a.m.
I honestly hate this ─ that is, losing one of the only two days of the normal week in which I might be able to get out very early and have myself a long walk. I won't do it during the week because workdays get too busy far too fast; and in addition to that, my wife is usually here in bed making it impossible for me to get any needed bed rest later in the morning were I to embark upon a challenging outing.
She tends to spend her weekends somewhere in Vancouver (such is my marriage), so I almost always have the earliest a.m. hours of Saturday and Sunday to myself.
Compounding the weekday issue is that my younger brother expects me to join him around 10:00 a.m. to put our Android TV Box into action (he doesn't have any facility in its use), so I have my time from that point until around 1:00 p.m. locked in for his benefit ─ if I did lose lots of sleep by getting in a long walk before daybreak, I cannot have a nap once my wife heads away for her 11:00 a.m. start at the Thai restaurant she works at.
It's all too brutal. Therefore, I feel robbed when I am not able to get to bed early on Friday evenings ─ and all just because my brother had nothing keeping him at the bar and managed to come home early.
He generally spends his Saturday evenings with his girlfriend Bev and then stays overnight at her home, but occasionally they get too drunk to tolerate one another and so he brings his drunk ass home to spoil my evening.
I hope not tonight!
Google photos notified me today that it created a collage from some photos taken approximately eight years ago (2013) when my wife had gone back to her Thailand home to visit her mother and other family and friends.
I have those photos collected into a Google Photos album.
Unfortunately, all of the photos that Google Photos used were evidently taken very early into her trip when she was likely at Suvarnabhumi Airport awaiting a flight to Udon Thani International Airport, and so she was alone and was not including anyone in her photos:
And these are the original photos, beginning with the left column:
Sure, they're nice enough captures, but I rather like having people in photographs, too.
It's been a rather chilly day, with light rain pretty much throughout.
I don't lose three or so hours from 10:00 a.m. on the weekends as a result of having to be tied up watching T.V. with my brother, because I subscribe to the Saturday morning edition of the Vancouver Sun and the Sunday morning edition of The Province ─ he has to very willingly amuse himself with those two newspapers.
If he finds time enough thereafter, he can always locate something to watch on T.V. for awhile to set himself up for some bed rest in preparation for the start of his latter afternoon return to swilling beer somewhere.
After he had his bed rest today, he didn't have to go out into the chilly rain to catch a bus (he is still under a three-month driving suspension). Instead, my eldest stepson obligingly spared him that discomfort, and at 2:20 p.m. they left together ─ the 25-year-old drove my brother to wherever he was wanting to go.
Well, I see that it is approaching 7:00 p.m., so I had best finish up this post and get it published so that I can watch a little T.V. while I have some supper, and then do my best to be into my bed by 9:00 p.m. or soon thereafter.
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