All I was to watch early last evening was an episode of The Rookie ─ episode three ("Dye Hard") of season five. This is another of those T.V. series that I watch on my own, and not in common with my younger brother.
I had decided that I was going to have my scheduled early a.m. walk, but the distance was going to depend upon the intensity of the rain.
And so I was to bed something ahead of 10 p.m., soon after my brother may have finally gotten home following his daily socializing.
My cellphone alarm was set for 2 a.m. However, a point in time arrived when I was awake enough to be curious, so I made a check ─ it was 1:41 p.m.
It was hopeless to attempt further sleep, but I was reluctant to rise that early, so I merely lay where I was until maybe 1:47 a.m., then rose. My usual target for departure is 2:15 a.m., so rising this early was going to afford me the luxury of not having to hasten in preparation as I usually have to do.
My errant wife had come home, for her bedroom door was closed. We have separate bedrooms for just about a year now. This was arranged soon after I was discharged from the hospital last year on October 28 after nearly succumbing to pneumonia ─ possibly COVID-related.
Anyway, my eldest stepson was still up, undoubtedly watching a movie on a laptop at the dining table. Regardless, I probably got on my way unnoticed by him. It was probably no later than 2:10 a.m., and raining steadily.
As I began my walk, I saw that my wife's bedroom light was still on.
Not only was a cold rain falling, but there was a chill wind that would spring up and drive the rain into my face and shaven head. I had travelled no more than a block and was already dealing with brain freeze (ice-cream headache).
It quickly became apparent that I would not be attempting the intended 5½-mile hike.
By the time I got to a nearby elementary school playground where I wanted to perform six sets of pull-ups and chin-ups, I dreaded initiating the activity. The bars were of course drenched with rain, and my gloves were going to fast be soaked.
Even so, I sensed that the work would invigorate me for some while to come.
I essayed the activity; and although I continue to be held to a mere three pull-ups in the opening set, it seemed to me that I had some fire within me that gave me some extra strength, for the sets were not quite as gruelling as they usually are.
When I was done, I was very pleased with myself for my performance and how well I felt. I was definitely awake.
In all, I decided to limit myself to three miles here in north Surrey. The major drop in distance was that I would only be following 100th Avenue to 140th Street (Google Map), and then turning "down" 140th Street to Fraser Highway; had the weather been better, I would have walked 100th Avenue as far as 148th Street, a full mile farther.
To this point in last night's walk, I was not contending with the initial brain freeze issue, for the wind was no longer directly into my face. But I was becoming wetter and wetter. The fronts of my pants were drenched, and my thighs starting to feel a bit of sting from the cold. I could even feel the rain having reached through my suede bomber jacket and possibly trickling along the inside of my upper arms just above my elbows.
Also, I was feeling the cold rain starting to run down the insides of my lower legs, alongside my shins.
Three miles were going to have to suffice ─ the extra 2½ or so miles would be approaching a state of folly.
And so it was that I was back home long before 4 a.m., by which time the house was in complete darkness. I may even have returned to bed soon after 4 a.m.
But could I sleep? No ─ it was madness. After maybe an hour I became so antsy that I considered getting up, but my eyes were so in need of proper sleep that I would not have been able to do anything constructive such as working here at my computer.
The situation was sufficiently dire that I wondered on how I am going to contend with these early a.m. walks if this sparsity of sleep that follows them is the norm I must always expect.
Eventually I did of course lapse in and out of some sleep; and my morning officially began around 8:30 a.m. when I was certain that I heard my brother up and about.
Friday mornings are his usual laundry day.
Towards 9 a.m. I joined him downstairs to watch some T.V. And when he invited me to put our Android TV Box to use, I led us off with Odessa Orlewicz's latest video from yesterday ─ it seemed that it was going to be a very ambitious video, for it was almost three hours long (2:56:01): 2 Tapes From 1968 Revealing The Plan For Humanity At A Doctors Meeting.
Population Control, not releasing their cure for cancer to decrease population, government food control, The suicide death pill, the digital implants, death camps and more...
What a dreary disappointment.
Now, I had not before heard of the Dr. Lawrence Dunegan who reportedly made the tapes in the late 1980s, reminiscing on the lecture by a Dr. Richard Day that he and a number of other medical doctors had attended 20 years earlier in the late 196os.
But so what? I am already aware that what is happening in the world today has been planned, and planned long before I was ever born (I am 73). I hardly require somebody's late 1960s lecture to illuminate me.
It would have been bad enough to sit and just listen to these tapes for nearly three hours, but Odessa was not going to make it that simple. Dr. Dunegan hardly ever got to speak more than a few sentences when Odessa would stop the play and intrude to spend a few minutes unnecessarily elaborating on some thought ─ often barely relevant ─ that she could not stifle.
After over 40 minutes of this, I was in full accord with my brother, and I dropped our further involvement in this waste of our time.
All anyone has to do is refer to the original recordings themselves if someone desires to hear them ─ there are all kinds of sources for them, I have found. There is no need to have Odessa's amateurish commentary constantly disrupting them.
Google probably will not freely offer sources, but just make a search at a search engine like Yandex. For example, provided that the link remains valid, this is my search using the phrase "Dr. Lawrence Dunegan reporting on Dr. Richard Day". If the link fails, use the phrase ─ without the quotation marks ─ to do your own search, and you will find page after page or relevant search results.
Odessa, you excel when you have someone to interview. But you absolutely suck when you read to your audience, or present recordings that you are pathologically unable to remain silent through.
After abandoning Odessa's video, I tuned in Christopher James Pritchard's (A Warrior Calls) that he uploaded to Rumble yesterday: Covid Narrative Collapsing.
He had a brief appearance by guest Dale Richardson.
I skipped past the usual boring airy-fairy opening that was probably at least six minutes long, and I quit the video before the similar usual closing sequence ─ so in all, I probably saved 10 minutes of non-essential (for my brother and I) viewing, cutting the video down to maybe an hour and 11 minutes (from 1:21:48).
I like Christopher, but his dream of a day of reckoning that 'the people' will be having in a Common Law court is never going to happen. And it can become wearisome putting up with him constantly proclaiming that it is nigh.
My brother and I finished our T.V. together by watching the final hour or less of the video I wrote about yesterday ─ we had to postpone watching it through because we ran out of time: Out of Babylon with David Straight - Part 7.
The video was a little over 2½ hours in full. And we now have just one more to get through in this series.
My wife had to work a full day again (the Thai restaurant opens at 11 a.m.), so she was up just ahead of 9:45 a.m. to shower and engage her other preparations prior to her fairly long drive. There was no time or opportunity for me to lay the ultimatum before her that I have concerning her constant theft of money from my chequing account to enable her partying and gambling.
I wrote about all of this yesterday, so I am not going to repeat it here.
If I am able to have the time to speak with her tomorrow afternoon once my brother has gone for the day, and before she leaves to put in her partial day at the restaurant from 4 or 4:30 p.m., then I will make the planned declaration ─ it ought to shake her up somewhat.
I want to try and watch a Christmas movie before my brother returns home this evening ─ and have some dark rum while I do so; but I still have to make a post in my private blog, so time will be of the essence.
No comments:
Post a Comment