Although my younger brother was home exceptionally early last evening ─ possibly before quite 6:15 p.m. ─ I distanced myself by primarily remaining upstairs here at my computer. I was not interested in risking his inebriation level by trying to watch any of our shows with him.
I have essentially given up watching evening T.V. with him anymore. I operate our Android TV Box, so without me he is left to fend for himself with basic cable or else my youngest stepson's Netflix Canada account.
He is thus able to pass out or fall asleep without needing to feel found-out by me when I indignantly start shutting down whatever show it was that he began losing consciousness during ─ usually of late, within the first five minutes of the feature.
So I had my usual early evening, even if I now cannot recall when it was that I did go to bed. I am certain that it was before 9:30 p.m.
My wife was not home at the time, but she did turn up before I managed to get to sleep. She noisily came into the bedroom a few times in quick succession, but I was wearing my bandana blindfold.
After I did finally get to sleep, a point arrived when my wife was readying for bed. When she left the room for whatever reason, I rose (I was mostly already dressed, for I had only taken off my sweatshirt). She had gone downstairs and was chattering with her youngest son (the older lad is away to Kelowna with friends for a couple of days of snowboarding).
I believed it to be nearly 1 a.m., but I was to discover later that I must have over-reckoned the time by an hour ─ my brother must have just barely put himself to bed.
Anyway, my wife anon sought bed, and I was able to work in peace upon a few things here at my computer after first going downstairs and turning on all of the Christmas lights that my brother had turned off. That earlier evening had been the first time that the lights festooning the eaves of the three sides of our open carport had been put on display this season, for early that morning I had purchased the needed extension cord to make that illumination possible.
I meant to take a few photos from streetside before I turned off all of the lights once more and returned to bed around 4:30 a.m., but somehow that intention slipped my memory. So perhaps I will manage to do it in the deep a.m. tonight.
We've had a wet day, although the rain has never been heavy. My journal of 40 years ago on this day stated that at that time Surrey (where I still live) was into a stretch of cold weather such that even the daytime temperatures were not exceeding the freezing mark, and there was lots of snow about.
In the present, we have had some frosty nights, but no all-day deep freezes. And I have yet to see even a minuscule snowflake.
I also wrote 40 years ago that my unheated bedroom was so cold that I could freeze water if I chose to.
I reproduce those old daily journal entries in my private blog that anyone is welcome to request access to. The blog itself is now over 12 years old, having been started back in September 2008.
My morning today was to commence around 8:30 a.m.; and when I emerged from my bedroom, my brother ─ who was downstairs and likely seated at the dining table reading something ─ had yet to turn on the T.V.
I remained upstairs until just about 10 a.m., then I went downstairs to boil some water for a black instant coffee, and to join my brother at the T.V., for I wanted us to watch a Dr. Mercola interview from late in October: Whitney Webb Discusses Operation Warp Speed.
My brother does not like Dr. Mercola's interviews because they run for so long, and this one was scheduled for over 80 minutes. I don't know if he actually noticed that, but he did present his usual gripe.
Nevertheless, I hope that some value was derived for him from having watched it ─ even though he did leave the room three or so times and missed a few minutes of the video on each vacation of the living room.
I find myself discouraged by these sorts of videos, yet the participants always seem to be upbeat ─ that the battle is winnable. I just wish that I had the financial wherewithal and independence to get involved in the fray, but I am just a 71-year-old pensioner with no other income of my own.
I don't think my wife had to work at the restaurant today, but she has been out a couple of times for extended periods ─ most recently, since mid-afternoon, and it is now after 6:30 p.m.
Before she left, her youngest son advanced to me about the proposition he had made yesterday ─ namely, that we should go out and look into getting a smallish Christmas tree, the first we will have had in possibly as many as eight years.
The lad would drive us, but I abhor going anywhere in the afternoon. I don't handle crowds well anymore. And so I ultimately backed out of the project. He, however, said that he might still go and look for one anyway.
I had a nap early in the second half of the afternoon. He was still home when I rose, but toward dusk he left without a word to me. Perhaps he is feeling disappointed with me ─ I rather expect this is so.
Anyway, he has been gone for well over an hour. I have a routine that would be disrupted with any such absence. For one thing, I would not have been able to blog here today. And also at risk would be some exercising that I still have remaining in the day's schedule.
And now I have just heard him return home. He opened and closed the front door in practically an instant, so clearly he was not bearing a Christmas tree.
By the way, a few days ago my wife posted a photo of herself to Facebook. I downloaded the photo and doubled it in size, then uploaded it to one of my Google Photos albums ─ the description beneath the photo is the one I used at Google Photos:
I don't know when this photo of my wife Jack was taken ─ I downloaded it from her Facebook account. She had posted it there on December 3, 2020 at 12:51 a.m.
Obviously that is not a photo that was taken late into the midnight hour.
So even if we assume that it was taken the day before (i.e., on December 2), was it warm enough that day anywhere in the Metro Vancouver region for her to be dressed in this fashion?
Perhaps for a relatively quick transit from a car into a nearby building.
My wife is 47 years old as of this past February, but I thought that she looked unusually good in the photo. It was definitely one worth keeping.
I am going to close and publish this post now. I will then go downstairs and light up the Christmas lights for the evening, and come back upstairs to have that session of exercise.
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