💀☠💀☠💀☠ More Ruin

Yesterday my younger brother showed up no later than 7:15 p.m., obviously catching me home before I had gone on my planned early evening five-mile+ walk. At least my wife did not emerge from her bedroom, so that was not hindering me.

I was to find it quite miserable out, but fortunately the mostly rain was not quite heavy enough to cause me to unpack and unfurl my umbrella. However, a gusty wind would likely have been problematic. For some while initially, the combination of cold precipitation and wind were causing me some unpleasant brain freeze.

There was no inclination to seek any exercise at the nearby elementary school playground. This was to be a walk alone, although during the second half I occasionally did some jogging to eat up time because by then my poor no-name AliExpress hikers were basically drenched right through.

I reversed my usual route, by the way.

There was one somewhat positive ─ for me ─ experience when I was involved in the mile-long stretch of 100th Avenue from 148th Street to 140th Street. I had left the former and was bound for the latter, travelling along the northern side of the avenue and approaching the traffic light at Green Timbers Access Road (Google Map).

The sidewalk I was on was often elevated above the avenue, and was also well removed from it by a bit of a ditch and trees. I chose that sidewalk for that very reason ─ I had no desire to be at risk of getting splashed by passing vehicles, for the sidewalk along the opposite side of the avenue is immediately next to it with no protection from passing traffic.

I was still some distance from those traffic lights when I heard an unseen woman's roar of exasperated outrage coming from the opposite side of the avenue and in the area of the traffic lights. Then I saw her ─ she was alone, and travelling where she was exposed to the passing traffic that was coming from behind her.

I am certain that she must have just gotten splashed, and likely also had cold, wet feet as did I.

When we had drawn abreast of one another, there was a lull in the traffic and she espied me, immediately crossing over to my side of the avenue and calling to get my attention. There is a second sidewalk there that is immediately alongside the avenue and intended for bicyclists.

The young woman entreated if I knew of how much farther was there a 7-Eleven?

I knew of none ─ only the one back on 140th Street and down it about half a mile. She knew of that one ─ she said that there was another somewhere in the direction that she was trekking.

I confessed that I only had familiarity as far as 148th Street ─ what might lay beyond along the avenue was unknown to me.

Disappointed, the impressive young woman then continued on her way, this time facing into the direction of oncoming traffic. I looked back when I got to the traffic lights at Green Timbers Access and could see that she was running, clearly seeking to reduce her exposure to the miserable elements and the oblivious passing traffic.

The sidewalks were covered with as much as an inch of snow or else slush in exposed places, so this is the mess we had to contend with.

Seeing her running, and having heard her earlier roar of outrage, I was reminded of Jean Cooper from my past in the late 1970s to 1983. I thought of her for the remainder of my own walk ─ perhaps another two miles at very minimum.

It was good to get home.

My brother was still conscious and watching T.V., so I changed out of my wet clothes and soon joined him. My wife was still behind her closed bedroom door, but the light was on and so I knew that she was up and probably watching videos on her smartphone or tablet.

At my brother's invitation to put our Android TV Box to work, I tuned in an episode of A Touch of Frost ─ episode three ("True Confessions") of season or series five. 

Then it was The Graham Norton Show ─ episode 12 of season or series 31. I was pleased to see Michelle Keegan as a guest ─ my brother and I enjoyed her immensely in the T.V. series Our Girl.

Before watching some random YouTube videos, I tuned in an episode of the American series Ghosts ─ episode one ("Spies") of season two.

It was around 2 a.m. by the time my brother decided to finally go to his bedroom for the night, and by then I had drank three cans of Cariboo Malt (8% alcohol) and a shot of Kraken Black Spiced Rum (47% alcohol).

For me, depravity ensued and I was not to get to bed until something like 5 a.m., only to be starting my morning around 8:20 a.m.

Morning T.V. with my brother primarily involved the 2012 movie I Do that I had previously recorded some time ago for the sake of watching actress Alicia Witt. This actress ─ especially when she was younger ─ reminds me in so many ways of the aforementioned Jean Cooper from my earlier life. But today, Jean would be in her early 70s.

The movie was good, but the plot was nothing I could identify with, nor could I feel empathy for the main character.

Wow! I only now discovered that supporting actress Jamie-Lynn Sigler was "Meadow Soprano" on the T.V. series The Sopranos. She was absolutely beautiful in this movie. 

I am going to have to let my brother know. He was watching an episode of The Sopranos when I got back from my miserable walk yesterday evening.

There are online sources for the movie I Do, but I will only cite this one at OK.ru.

All else we were to watch was another short movie in the old Edgar Wallace Mysteries series. We have now seen (in consecutive or sequential order) December 1963's Five to One. It was not until I saw some of the closing credits that I realized a young John Thaw of Inspector Morse fame had a main role.

Incidentally, I used this link at OK.ru for my source, coincidentally enough.

My brother sought some bed rest before he left for the day. I had a meal, and then resorted to an early afternoon nap that saw me exceed 3½ hours in bed, rising again around 4:30 p.m.

Just as yesterday afternoon, I had one bout of sleep, and then chose to seek a second rather than quit my bed, for I knew I was into a sleep deficit. I really must stop getting to bed so bloody late into the wee a.m., as contradictory as that phrase may appear grammatically.

My wife had to work a full day today, and left shortly after 10 a.m. on her fairly long drive. My brother was away at the time, having gone to pick up his girlfriend Bev and drive her to work.

Just as my wife left, she meekly beseeched me to transfer $300 into her account to cover a life insurance payment that she was concerned might get debited today (it did not).

I could only make the transfer by taking money from the bi-weekly mortgage payment due to be debited on Thursday. I only have a wee bit over $300 cash on hand here at home with which to replace the deficit, but fortunately I was transferred $340 this afternoon by my youngest stepson. 

I sincerely hope that the money was not a combination contribution from both of the lads ─ I need the older lad to make an additional contribution, for their grasping mother has now gotten $650 from me since I received last month's pension income.

And I am supposed to keep this waste of hers secret from them.

I was so distraught after she left for work that I went out to the backyard tool shed for some exercise, despite being short on sleep, and managed five and then two pull-ups in two initial sets; then three chin-ups in each of two further sets; and two pull-ups between two bars in a final two sets, holding the very last pull-up for a 20-count.

Then I performed 15 slow full-range push-ups on the wooden floor.

Somehow I must have a minimum of $500 with which to make a couple of credit card payments due this month, $350 of which is debt created by my wife's casino addiction.

I am so uneasy about how I can keep above the financial quagmire that she perpetually has me tossed into. I actually plead with God to grant me a liberating lottery win so that I can be free of my debts and be able to move far away from her selfish influence.

Otherwise, it seems that death is the only release that I am to know. I am too damned old to still be worrying over finances when I have what would be a decent pension income if only I had a conscientious and sensible wife ... which I most emphatically do not.

She is the proverbial albatross around my neck, and nothing but.

I intend yet another evening five-mile+ walk, so I am going to bring this post to a close. The day has been dry, and even had a little sunshine.