Twitter: Right Said Fred
I am opening this post at 5:59 a.m., having gotten up around 3:41 a.m. ─ my cellphone alarm had been set for 4:30 a.m., but sleep had begun proving too elusive.
I suppose that my bedtime last night was around 11:15 p.m., for I had grown utterly disgusted with my snoring brother who had by then wasted episodes of two of the shows we watch in common. His alcohol-soaked, feeble brain was simply unable to sustain consciousness.
He roused numerous times, but sometimes less than a minute later was again snoring. At least twice he roused and uttered some disruptive and unneeded commentary about a scene that he had awakened to, but he clearly had absolutely no idea about what was happening, and was merely seeking to have me believe that he was following the episode.
With difficulty, I simply held my tongue at his transparent ploy.
I find this deeply annoying. His pathetic logic is that I am too oblivious to realize that he was not intently viewing the episode all along.
I become so infernally fed up with his snoring that is often broken when he suddenly begins to gag on his own slobber, drowning out the conversation that might be occurring in the show. What truly offends me is when during one of these gagging interruptions he begins to launch into one of this five-minute sneezing sessions in which he will roar forth a sneeze every 15 or so seconds that is as loud as a deliberate shout ─ it starts to feel as if he is deliberately being disruptive.
I was spared any of this last evening, fortunately.
So after the second episode I had watched, I turned off both the Android TV Box and the T.V. and left the drunken, unconscious lout alone in the darkened living room.
I felt that it was too late for me to try to rise at 2:30 a.m. for one of the better than five-mile walks that I seem to have suspended, having gotten out of practice a month or more ago when I was caught up in the Christmas season and the movies and extra drinking that marked that period.
With my wife presently staying somewhere in Vancouver and set to take a Monday flight to Rome, Italy, to visit a sister of hers who lives there ─ and intending to be away for approximately two months ─ I feel that I might as well attempt to get back into my walks again. This will necessitate getting to bed relatively early each evening prior to the planned walk.
I despise street traffic and the populations of other pedestrians that are out during the daytime and even the evenings, so I have no alternate choice but to attempt my walks in the weest a.m. And since the earliest commuters tend to already be on their way by 5 a.m., I prefer to be home from any walk by then. Thus, the best time for privacy is to try to be on my way by 2:45 a.m.
Since I was not doing so earlier, I had no long walk planned this time. Even so, I did intend some activity of that nature. But nothing particularly ambitious.
Consequently, at approximately 4:45 a.m. I was on my way to the fairly nearby elementary school playground where I am able to engage a half-dozen sets of pull-ups and chin-ups. I had first weighed myself in the full gear that I would be wearing ere I left the house, and I scaled in at an easy 201 pounds.
I found a very light spray of rain in effect when I set out, but it may have ceased at some point in my outing for I cannot recall that it was still in effect by the time I was on my way home.
Anyway, at the school I managed two repetitions of sorts in each of the six sets that I essayed. It was definitely a strain for this 73-year-old, but I felt quite good afterwards ─ it was vitalizing.
As for my walk, I took a roundabout route home, so I had myself a round trip that must easily have been 1¼ miles. Sure, naught to be bragging about; but it was far more beneficial that just sitting here in front of my computer until I felt like returning to bed.
Apparently my eldest stepson had a graveyard shift, for he was home little more than 20 minutes after I began this post. I had seen that his car was absent when I had my outing.
His younger brother will be having the use of their mother's car while she is away.
I think that about catches me up to the present, so I am going to break here and fairly soon return to my bed.
I do not believe that we have had any rain during the day.
As for my brother, I have no idea what is going on with him, but he never emerged from his bedroom this morning until approximately 10 a.m., despite all the time he spent snoring last evening in the living room.
There cannot be that much viable brain matter in charge anymore.
I did not join him for some T.V. this morning until around 11 a.m., for he had something tuned in before then that he seemed to be intent upon. When I did join him, we had at least half of a fairly lengthy (1:22:26) documentary to watch that we had bailed from yesterday for want of time.
The original source for the documentary is at this YouTube link: Anecdotals. That original source recommends an alternate source at Odysee if YouTube ever bans the documentary, but we watched it at one of many sources that can be found at BitChute. Since I now do not know just which source we used, you could always give this one a try.
The documentary title relates to the truism that when it comes to the collection of sufficient data to finally prove that inoculation injuries are no longer attributable to coincidence, then each injury anecdote can be viewed as an instance of such data. Therefore, in this sense, the singular of "data" could be said to be the word "anecdote".
The documentary was created through the efforts of its directory Jennifer Sharp, whom my brother and I saw interviewed in a video that we watched a day or two ago.
My brother sought some bed rest approximately midway through the noon hour. I instead had my day's first meal ─ rather sadly, they were the last leftovers that had been prepared by my wife. When I thereafter sought a nap, it was sounding as if my brother was readying to leave for the day to again engage in his socializing. He was gone when I stirred and rose towards 2:30 p.m.
I would like to mention that when my wife and I were sharing a long hug before she had her youngest son drive her in to Vancouver late yesterday afternoon so that he could have her car in her absence, she said that her eldest son was considering taking some time off work and joining her in Rome at some point. And if he did, I should try to come along as well ─ if, of course, I could lay hold of the money to make the trip possible.
Well, it is not going to be possible ─ I would need to win a large lottery jackpot. Regardless, it touched me that she would venture that my presence over there would be welcome to her.
Now, as for my brother and any T.V. together this evening, I am considering making the 5.625 round trip trek this evening to do some grocery shopping at what I believe is the nearest Real Canadian Superstore outlet. Naturally, I would need to be feeling rather perky beforehand ─ especially since I must walk, for I do not drive.
By the way, at times over the course of today I have experienced separation pangs when I contemplate my wife embarking on her flight, any negative issues that she may meet with, and the lengthy duration of her absence. Despite our troubles, I do love her. She was once my best friend. It beings home that I am essentially still vulnerable to the loneliness known to me since my teens back in the latter 1960s.
Finally, I offer you some potentially engaging reading, provided in the latest Organic Consumers Association's newsletter Organic Bytes.
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