The Guardian

Just ahead of 4 p.m. this afternoon I had an impromptu heart-to-heart chat with my youngest stepson after he had answered the door and dealt with someone representing a realty company hosting an open house ─ within the reasonable area where we live ─ for two homes, each selling for $1.3 million.

My stepson said that he had previously learned that one of our immediate neighbours had bought their house for the same amount.

This realty agent apparently asked my stepson if he was interested in getting a quote on what our property would be projected as being worth, so the lad gave him his phone number.

He is aligned with me in the sense that he fully believes that the real estate 'bubble' is going to burst very soon, while the economy also will be collapsing and he and his brother will likely be losing their jobs.

He wants us to sell while we can still get a high price. As it is, we're paying far too much in property taxes for absolutely nothing, and the mortgage is never going to be paid off ─ not in my lifetime, in all likelihood.

So he wants me again to bring up the topic with my younger brother of selling.

My brother has watched enough videos with me that he understand the economy and society itself are likely going to crash to a catastrophic level. But all my brother seems to carry about after we watch our videos each latter morning is to take off each and every early afternoon to go drinking until he drags his drunken ass home sometime in the evening when he will continue his drinking here into the a.m. ─ often as not, passing out for various lengths of time.

He is afraid to sell the house because he cannot bear not to have drinking buddies near at hand ─ he knows that it is my desire to move far away from this part of the country. Obviously he does not have to accompany me, but he is afraid to be on his own.

And so we have this ongoing inertia on his part while we all more or less remain in our expensive prison.

My wife came home this late morning and smartly retired to bed, not rising until I was having my early afternoon nap (my brother had by then gone for the day to drink). After I rose from my nap, she hit me up to transfer $800 to someone on her behalf, promising that she would repay me by July 8th at likely the latest.

Well, it had slipped my mind that today had been our fortnightly mortgage day. And on top of that, our annual property taxes are due next Tuesday.

Fortunately my youngest stepson overheard my stressing these things to his mother, so he transferred enough that at least I now have sufficient for those property taxes.

Suffice to say in all of this, I will update my brother tomorrow morning about the talk my youngest stepson had with the realty agent this afternoon, and stress that we cannot keep living here another year.

But it will be the dissolution of our household. My wife will never move away with me; and neither of my two stepsons can move away from their employment (nor their girlfriends!). The only reason that I would throw in with my brother in leaving these parts is because I do not drive. Thus, unless I had considerable means to be able to afford some manner of shipping, I would have to abandon most of what I own.

Otherwise, my brother and I have nothing in common except blood. He is not someone I want to have to keep living with if all he cares to do is get stupid-drunk every day of his life.

Anyway, I had my early a.m. five-mile+ walk overnight, rising at 1:45 a.m. to ready for it. When I did rise, I found myself feeling about ready to develop an eyestrain-type headache ─ probably the migraine-like aura that I have had present itself over the past two dozen or so years.

I am not sleeping correctly ─ plain and simple.

When I was all set to leave, my full clothed weight was about 189 pounds with my jacket on; and 185 pounds without the jacket.

It was 2:24 a.m. once I was outside and set to go.

The periods of light rain yesterday had their traces virtually all dried up, although once I got to the elementary school playground three or so blocks from here, the equipment still had droplets of water hanging from the otherwise dry metal bars.

I did not feel like exercising, but I stripped off my jacket for the half dozen sets of pull-ups and chin-ups, and managed the usual repetitions: 6-2-3-2-2-2.

The final two pull-ups were between a pair of bars because vandals had succeeded in wrapping the high chains of the gymnastics-style rings around the large support bar and they were thus far beyond my reach.

When I had one set remaining on those bars I was doing pull-ups with, I suddenly became aware that somebody had encroached from the same direction that I had come. In the gloom this person seemed almost inclined to approach, and even seemed to stop; but he may have decided to remain distant and then continue out of sight.

I refused to abort my exercising and had those final two pull-ups, and nearly comfortably held the very last pull-up for a 25-count.

And then I had a dozen slow, full-range declined push-ups on a cement ramp.

Very soon after I continued on my way, I detected the occasional faint speck of moisture. Eventually these faint specks gradually increased in numbers; and ultimately during the last 1½ miles or so, the pavement had begun to become wet once again.

It was to be another wet morning; and I am unsure if we ever did have any attempt at drying, for there always seemed a recurrence of very light rain.

It was 4:30 a.m. by the time I was home from last night's walk; and I was not to bed until maybe 6:10 a.m.

My morning began around 8:30 to 8:45 a.m., and still I had that vague sense of an impending headache. But I was up before my brother, and had access to the T.V. when he finally emerged from his bedroom around 9:30 a.m.

We were to watch just two videos via our Android TV Box.

I led us off with one 17 minutes long (17:25) that had been published yesterday at Rumble's AnitaKrishna channel: Liberal loss in Toronto St. Paul and how Vassy Kapelos keeps them in check.

All we had time for thereafter was a 1¾-hour (1:50:48) video published yesterday by Odessa Orlewicz: See How Every Aspect Of Canada Is Being Funded By Big Pharma - With Christine Colebeck.

This is the full 2 hour interview version. Christine was a working nurse in Canada who's baby died from a vaccine and her other son had lifelong neurological damage. 30 years ago she began her journey into discovering the horror as to why the pharmaceutical giants have a noose around the necks of our politicians, universities, hospitals, scientists, and doctors. Christine names some past and current names involved in the pushing of the agenda and shows when and how this all started. This is an important episode to save for your files in our fight to reclaim Canada. Please share this information WIDELY. (Links for this episode are at the bottom.)

Those links are not live at that source ─ go here to Rumble for active links and not mere text.

My brother sought some bed rest quite soon following the video. I had a meal, and then was to bed as well.

Today was his day to catch a bus or two in order to rendezvous with one to three drinking buddies at a pub.

I have plans of an evening walk ─ with no purpose other than the walk. This will free me up to watch some T.V. late into the evening with my brother.

This has been a bath day, so I dealt with that at the start of evening.

Things outdoors seem to have gone a long ways towards drying, but the sky has been heavily overcast. We shall see how that outing does go.

Meantime, I had myself a can each of Cariboo Malt (8% alcohol) and Old Milwaukee (4.5% alcohol) while watching two shows.

First was the pilot episode of The Guardian from late September 2001. I believe that I may have watched an episode or two of the series back when it was current, but never got into it.

That pilot episode? Wow!

The second show was a YouTube video of nearly a half hour's duration (28:55) from April 26, 2003: I was born 'Male' but I'm not Trans | Interesting & SeXY : Episode 1.

Again, wow!

I truly want to discuss this video, but I have no time.

My brother is home, and it is 9:33 p.m. ─ I am still leaving on the walk.