My younger brother arrived home last evening barely ahead of 8 p.m. and just as I was about to play an episode of FBI, a series that I watch on my own ─ i.e., it is not one of those that my brother and I follow in common. But I set it to play regardless (I use our Android TV Box to locate episodes of the T.V. series we watch).
He watched it, with occasional drunken commentary ─ it was clear that he was soused, and I was half-expecting that he would pass out before the show's conclusion, but he did not.
When it did finish very shortly after 8:30 p.m., he rose and went into the kitchen where my youngest stepson had been cooking his supper, and I could overhear my brother engage the lad about his employment.
After just a few questions from my brother, the 22-year-old then said, "You've asked me this, like, five times already. Do you not remember?"
Drunks do not easily retain information, so my brother did what he always does when this question is thrust at him ─ he justified himself by citing 'old age' for the fragility of his memory.
Well, this is not an excuse he can ever use on me (he is 2¾ years younger than I am), so we usually end up in a heated exchange that has often resulted in one of us leaving the room. I have had him come home and venture to bring up the same conversation three times in a single week! It is bloody annoying, especially when he does so while interrupting a show that is in progress.
But I stayed out of it last evening, sitting in silence as I awaited his return so that I could begin playing an episode of Z Nation, one of the T.V. series he and I watch in common.
The kitchen conversation eventually played itself out, and it became apparent that my brother had begun rustling up a supper of his own.
And time wore on. At one point he even went upstairs to his bedroom, probably to use the bathroom and change clothes, putting on his home lounge wear.
By the time it hit 9 p.m., I was well realizing that I was no better off than if he had just arrived home ─ it is why I have an unspoken 8:30 p.m. deadline for him. If he arrives home (from wherever he has been drinking) even one minute past 8:30 p.m., I make myself scarce and get to bed early. I do not desire to be sitting up late operating our Android TV Box ─ especially when my brother may well be passing out during an episode of something.
He has done that far too often. I then shut down the Android TV Box in disgust and leave him to watch basic cable television on his own while drinking as much more as he may desire before he eventually retires for the night.
So here it was already 9 p.m. and as yet I had not even begun one of the series we watch in common ─ typically, we have time to watch three shows, and possibly even a sitcom, and that will keep me up as late as I care to be.
But to begin watching shows after 9 p.m. is no engagement I will willingly involve myself with ─ besides, I had already been awaiting my brother for nearly a half hour. I would do so no longer.
And so I came upstairs and put myself to bed ─ he was deservedly on his own.
My sober brother is reasonable, and I of course love him. But the drunken incarnation he so willing devolves into through excessive drinking is nobody I wish to spend time with. I wish that persona was not such a regular part of my life.
I had been expecting that my wife would be home following her workday at her friend's Thai restaurant, but that had not yet occurred.
After about an hour in bed ─ during which time I believe that I may have slipped into some slumber ─ I found myself in the need to stroan. (This Scottish term is explained at the bottom of this post.)
As so infernally often happens, I opened my bedroom door to find that the bathroom was occupied ─ my two stepsons seem telepathically able to foretell when best to usurp the bathroom to cause me as much consternation as possible.
I returned to bed to wait out whomever it was, but anon I had to conclude that I was going to have to seek relief by slipping across the way into my brother's bedroom to use the toilet in his en suite shower room, hoping desperately that he did not need to use it himself ─ I had seen him downstairs lounged in his comfy chair and watching T.V.
As I was using that facility, standing there in my undershorts, I heard whomever had been occupying the bathroom suddenly leave it ─ as again so often happens. I swear, those two lads seem to perceive the most opportune times in which to inconvenience and aggravate me.
I finished up, and hastened across to my own bedroom, not noticing that the door was now pulled closed (I had not fully shut it). I hastily opened it and in doing so thrust it upon my wife who was just inside the darkened room staring intently at the screen of her smartphone.
She had been just about to retire to bed herself, and was wearing her housecoat. But she exclaimed almost aloud in her near panic, not immediately comprehending what was happening ─ she had assumed that I was lying there in bed.
And as we both retired in the dark, she maintained her diatribe expounding upon the shock that I had caused her; and although I was truly sorry for having done so ─ it gives me no pleasure to frighten women, and especially my hardworking wife ─ I could not help but snicker a few times.
I was still awake when my brother obligingly retired to his room around 10:50 p.m. ─ unusually early. I was free at last to rise and soon begin adding content into a new post I have just recently begun at one of my six hosted websites.
And as I recall, it was no later than 4 a.m. when I returned to bed for a little further sleep.
It had been raining considerably overnight ─ often quite hard; and this continued over most of the morning. The afternoon had a surprising amount of sunshine.
I doubt that I was in bed any later than 8:30 a.m., and my brother was not to emerge from his bedroom until after that.
My wife was to have to work again today, so I don't think that she was any later in rising than 9:30 a.m. As she usually does before she readies and leaves us, she performed some cooking to leave for everyone. I took the opportunity around 9:45 a.m. to go downstairs and present her with an apology for frightening her last night, explaining that I had no idea that she was home.
She normally spends her weekends somewhere in Vancouver, but it is possible that she may show up for awhile early this evening.
As for my brother, he left here no later than 2 p.m. this afternoon, so it is very likely that he will be home again ahead of his 8:30 p.m. deadline, forcing me to open myself to having to sit up late with him watching our shows together.
However, it is also quite possible that he will just prove too unpalatable as company. I can but wait and see.
Okay, that Scottish word "stroan" ─ the following two entries are from An Etymological Dictionary of the Scottish Language by John Jamieson, apparently first published in 1808:
To STRONE, STROAN, v. n.
1. To spout forth as a water-pipe, S.
Gl. Sibb.
2. To urine, to stale, S. synon. strule.
Burns.
Isl. streing-r, cataracta; stroningum, sparsim.
To STRULE, v. n.
1. To urine, S.
2. To pour water from one vessel to another, to emit any liquid in a stream, S. streel. Fife.
Fris. struyl-en, strull-en, streyl-en, reddere urinam, mejere.
The time that an interested party could expend exploring just the background in those two definitions almost boggles me. Heck, even "v. n." requires more education than I presently have ─ all I can offer is that the initials stand for 'verb neuter', but you'll have to work out for yourself just what the term conceptualizes.
I am unsure what the capital letter "S." is denoting, unless it is merely referring to the specific word being defined.
As well, in the first definition, I worked out that the initials "Gl. Sibb." apparently refers to James Sibbald's Glossary of the collection he edited that was titled Chronicle of Scottish Poetry and first published in 1802. Provided that the link remains valid, you can find that book in its entirety ─ albeit in sections, for it is extremely long ─ at Catalog.HathiTrust.org here.
I don't have the time to track down the reference to "Burns" nor "Fife", but I expect that the latter is likely Robert Sibbald's ─ and this is how Wikipedia has it ─ "1803: A History Ancient and Modern of the Sheriffdoms of Fife and Kinross. Cupar". You can also likely find this one in sections at Catalog.HathiTrust.org ─ try here.
The Scottish dictionary itself is available in sections at ScotsDictionary.com and elsewhere.
I must stop for today ─ it is already very much past 8 p.m., and I want to have a bath and perhaps get to bed ahead of my brother's home arrival.
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