It may bother me somewhat to grocery-shop Saturday mornings ─ the day I deem to be the true Sabbath; but I am only able to shop early Saturdays and Sundays because I have limited liberty here in my own home.
And since I do not drive and have to walk, I am never assured that I will be capable of venturing forth on Sunday ─ such was the case today. Thus, had I not shopped early yesterday, I would be lacking today. Nothing at all would have been accomplished this weekend.
My younger brother arrived home relatively early last evening ─ not too much after 8:00 p.m. Had he not gotten home by 8:30 p.m. from wherever he was drinking, I would have avoided him and gone to bed early.
But since he did make it home ahead of that time, I willingly sat up and operated our Android TV Box, locating an episode each of three of the T.V. series we follow. Over the course of the evening, I also indulged in two cans of beer (5.5% alcohol).
Apparently I am too unpracticed where drinking matters. I felt perfectly well when I retired around 11:30 p.m. or so, but I was into a head-based hangover when I struggled to rise around 5;30 a.m.
I felt like I had hardly gotten any sleep. Nonetheless, I rose to put work into the post I have on the go at one of my six hosted websites.
The plan had been that I would try and get away early to a government liquor store ─ one 2½ miles from here opens at 9:30 a.m. on Sunday now, while the other that is two miles from here opens at 10:00 a.m. on Sundays.
I realized that I was far too under the weather for any such venture. In fact, I returned to bed twice before the noon hour and napped.
How can this be? How can two cans of barely above average-strength beer hit me like that? I cannot imagine there to be any other cause for this malaise.
I even had to bed down again around 3:44 p.m., although I am unsure if I actually managed to nap on that occasion. I definitely rested, however.
There is just one more weekend before the arrival of my younger brother's 68th birthday, so I must ensure that I make it our next Saturday morning to buy him his birthday booze, a gifting tradition that he and I have. I just cannot rely that I will be capable of the undertaking on Sunday.
The morning had been quite overcast, but the afternoon was gloriously sunny, even if I was not up to it. I did, however, do some sunning. Beginning at 1:22 p.m., I first put in just over a half hour sunning my back; and then I put in just over another half hour sunning my front.
All I wore were a pair of gym-style shorts.
Alas, there was to be absolutely no physical activity for me today. I suppose that it is as a consequence of my fell state of being today that I have nothing within me for the task of exercising of any kind.
My vision has been very concerning today, too ─ I feel so limited. My eyes are in bad condition as it is, but today they seem especially so. Only one eye is in anything like useful condition anyway ─ the other is so damaged that I was told back around 1997 that it is qualified as being legally blind.
This was according to a physician giving me a physical examination.
It occurred to me today that if by an accident I lost the use of my better eye, then I cannot imagine continuing with life.
I hate being so damned constrained and helpless. I have familial obligations that I would that I did not have. Had I never gotten involved with the woman who became my wife in 2005, and I was still single today, then I would be free to end myself at my choosing.
But I am only of economic or financial value to her while living due to the full total of my monthly pensions. If I died, she would probably be lucky to clear $500 a month from that point as my widow. I am unsure if she would even clear $400. As it is, she still works ─ in a Thai restaurant belonging to a friend of hers.
She is only 47 years old, and will never have her own pension beyond that of CPP and ─ at the age of 65 ─ OASP. She has no pension plan of her own devising.
At least with me alive, I clear something over $2,300 a month when my three pensions are taken into account. Her standard of living would plummet without me alive.
I also feel some obligation to my two stepsons, even though one is 22 years old and the other 25 years old. Heck, even my brother benefits in economic terms from me being alive.
Had I never gotten involved with the woman who became my wife, she and her two sons would not be in any equation that relates to me. Only my brother would suffer ─ but only in an emotional degree ─ at my loss.
I damned well hate being in this vulnerable position.
Curiously, toward that potential end, of late I have been thinking about purchasing something like an MP3 player ─ perhaps one solar-powered. Then I could accumulate a suicide hit list ─ a library of as many of the songs from my young adulthood that awaken within me today exquisitely painful reminiscence of a time of my life when I had such hopes and dreams and potential.
When the time came that I needed to bring an end, I would have the musical accompaniment to take with me far removed from home where I could perhaps get good and drunk and profoundly emotional, and then bring on that self termination.
I want to stop this post. All else I have to say is that early this morning when I was boiling water for a black instant coffee, I noticed at least two raccoons in the back yard. Squawking crows had alerted me to the critters' presence.
I had nothing at hand with which to photograph or videotape them, so I hustled upstairs to retrieve my cellphone ─ the entire errand would have taken well under 30 seconds. Maybe even less than 15 seconds.
Yet upon returning downstairs, there was no sign of them ─ they had almost miraculously vanished.
This is the sort of fortune that attends my pointless life.
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