Back on Track?

Perhaps it was 9:40 p.m. last evening when I went to bed, with my cellphone alarm set for 1:30 a.m. to get me up to ready for a five-mile+ walk.

I was awake ahead of time, and in dire need of a visit to the toilet. Until then, I had refrained from checking the time. I took a look at returning to bed ─ it was something like 1:18 a.m.

I had no desire to be getting up even before 1:30 a.m., so I did my best to relax as deeply as possible as I awaited my alarm's chime.

At the last, I decided that I would prefer not to hear the summons, so I checked the time at 1:28 a.m. and rose then.

My wife had not yet come home following working at the Thai restaurant where she is employed part-time. Only my youngest stepson was still up, but he was in the boys' den area at his computer.

I did an excellent job of dawdling

And when I was finally dressed to go, I weighed myself fully clothed: ca. 186 pounds sans jacket; and 187 or 188 pounds with the jacket on.

Once I was outside of the newly locked front door and about to set off in the rather chilly, moist night air under a bright moon and an essentially cloudless sky, it was 2:33 a.m.

I knew that with my display of accumulated weight, there would be no hope of matching my maximums in the six sets of pull-ups and chin-ups that I usually tackle early into my walks at the elementary school playground three or so blocks away, so I walked on past it with the intention of stopping there on my return.

I recollect nothing of interest about the walk, apart from a few times having my anger boil right over because of either blinding headlights, or else on two occasions street racing by a pair of cars. How is it that at that time of night when there is hardly any street traffic, on two separate occasions a pair of driving 🅰🅢🆂-🅷🅞🅻🅔🆂 manage to find one another and just go at it?

I felt like it was personal ─ that these buggers were deliberately seeking to aggravate me by robbing me of the little peace my night was bringing me.

The second time was along an avenue a half mile away from the avenue that the first racers were on, and it was maybe 45 minutes later. So at this second seemingly targeted affront I roared in fury and glared insanely at the cars as they tore past me; but alas, my vocalized rage was drowned out by the sheer intensity of engine noise.

I bet someone on the opposite side of the avenue would not have heard my voice mixed into the sounds of the two racing vehicles.

Back at the elementary school, I decided to remove my jacket and do my best to wipe a jungle gym monkey bar dry enough for me to secure a decent barehanded grip.

It didn't matter, though. I was so stiffened that peak numbers were unthinkable for the two sets of pull-ups.

Overall, my repetitions were 4-2-3-3-2-2, the first two sets being pull-ups. Chin-ups were the middle two sets, and the final two sets were pull-ups on a pair of gymnastics-style rings.

I reckon that once the first two sets of pull-ups were done, I had largely managed to limber up. After I had pulled myself up for the very last repetition on the rings, I held the elevation for a 40-count ─ and maybe even a rushed 45-count.

I was also able to get in 14 full-range decline push-ups on the nearby cement ramp that is in place in lieu of a set of stairs to a school side door.

So I supposed I left feeling okay about things. I just didn't expect to arrive back home outside the locked front door and find that the outing had taken me six minutes over two hours, for it was 4:39 a.m.

By then my youngest stepson had gone to bed, so I was the last occupant not in bed.

Even so, towards 5:45 a.m., my younger brother began stirring about in his bedroom and then emerged, heading on downstairs to boil water for a coffee and read the Saturday morning edition of the Vancouver Sun that I subscribe to.

Adding to the unexpectedness was that maybe 10 minutes later, my wife arrived home!

She claimed to just want to go to bed when my brother invited her to use the still-hot water, but she managed to delay long enough that I actually was back to bed before she finally was the same in her own bedroom.

I think that it was around 8:45 a.m. when I came out of a bit of dream and was just about to anxiously get out of bed and have my day's first absolutely delicious instant coffee with the works ─ the liquid whipping cream I use was especially enticing as I imagined my hot beverage!

And then the realization dawned ─ I am into my Sabbath fast. Yes, I can have black and unsweetened instant coffee ... but there is nothing in the least delightful about beginning the morning in that fashion.

But that's what was in store.

I discovered that my brother had at some point returned to his bedroom. I wasn't into watching any T.V. on my own while feeling both hunger and the listlessness of my fast, so I just worked here at my bedside computer.

My brother was not long in making another appearance, and again went downstairs, this time turning on the T.V. So I finished up and soon joined him.

We watched the news until 9:30 a.m. before he invited me to put our Android TV Box into operation, but he cautioned that he had an 11 a.m. dental appointment he would be having to soon get ready to leave for.

I led us off with a short (4:02) video published yesterday at Rumble's AnitaKrishna channel: Let’s Not Suck! Get BC’s Economy Back on Track.

Brief thoughts while at a BC Mining Conservative Party Fundraiser in Vancouver.
John Rustad, Kerri Lynne Findlay appear in video.

I did not realize that the video just previous to it was far more substantial and also new to us, so we will have to watch it next time.

Gosh, there must have been something else that we watched, but I cannot think of it. When he went upstairs to begin readying, I tuned in the first podcast episode of the collaboration between Woody Harrelson and Ted Danson ─ i.e., Where Everybody Knows Your Name with Ted Danson and Woody Harrelson (sometimes).

I don't know if the YouTube episodes are full-length ─ maybe they are. This first one seemed to have some editing: Will Arnett | Where Everybody Knows Your Name with Ted Danson & Woody Harrelson.

It was 55 minutes (55:25).

I'm no Will Arnett fan ─ the only sitcom I became familiar with him in was The Millers, and I despised that a man his age was still such a pathetic mama's boy. The distaste for that character transferred onto the actor, and I have been unable to regard him favourably ever since the series. The only reason I watched this premiere episode of the podcast is because I wanted to check it out from its commencement to see if I care hereafter to watch other episodes.

With my brother away, well into the noon hour I was again here at my computer when I heard my wife exit her bedroom and go into the bathroom. It seemed likely that she might be remaining up, so I decided to have my needed nap ─ the day was by this time fully sunny, so it also seemed likely I would be able to get some sunshine later.

I rose after a decent nap ─ it was around 2 p.m. My wife was in the kitchen when I came downstairs. I declined some food, explaining that I was fasting until dark. Then I went out into the backyard, and at 2:15 p.m. was to get a little over 1½ hours of Sun.

I was barefooted, but otherwise fully clothed. Maybe had I been home alone, I might have just worn shorts.

Just past 3 p.m. while I was out there, a shadow was cast over me ─ my wife was standing between me and the Sun. I had not heard her approach because an immediate neighbour was mowing his backyard with a very noisy machine that had almost drowned out my radio.

What did my wife want?

Well, already she was after $1,000 because she needed the money for some account that had to be fleshed out for some improperly explained reason ─ she is seldom clear about her excuses.

So I explained ─ I absolutely did not have the money. Hell, I don't even have $100 that I could scrape together, thanks to how impoverished she has made me this month. Our joint account has $33.74; there might be a couple of dollars in total in two other joint sub-accounts. And my personal account where I keep the fortnightly mortgage only has $2.32. We barely were able to cover the automated mortgage debit this past Thursday.

And now she's after $1,000 from me? She claimed that possibly next Tuesday or Wednesday she would be able to pay me back $2,000.

That might be true, although her promises are usually lies because she promises repayments she cannot possibly make; or else she just fails to follow through, despite originally being sincere at the time she makes her promises.

Hell, even if she did make any such $2,000 repayment, it would virtually be nothing more than a brief gesture. Within a week she would be after me for half or most of the money ─ basically, I would only have been holding it for her.

So she had to accept that I was skint. I am hoping that my monthly pension income will be directly deposited this next Wednesday or Thursday, but it may not show until Friday ─ hopefully not after the weekend!

I must never let her scalp me again like she did this month ─ no more loans of hundreds of dollars at each borrow that are not repaid, and the emergency reasons never clearly explained. I am left shackled in penury, but she is able to party multiple times a week.

I need things ─ essential things! And I have bills that must be paid ─ including a minimum of $450 a month that goes to two credit cards that she racked up and reneged on, but which also have my name as being responsible for, even though she created the debts.

That experience this afternoon was crushing, for I was caught so unawares that had I my pension money already, I honestly doubt that I would have been able to turn down the parasite that my wife has become.

This realization is harrowing, and I was left feeling intense anguish for some while.

I must be prepared for her sneak attacks when she seeks my money ─ I just wish that I could go away and live elsewhere, out of her reach.

Enough of that topic for today.

I am going to take a break from this post. I have just weighed myself fully naked, and am down to 176 pounds. At present, it is 7:18 p.m. and I should be able to break my fast well before 8 p.m.

ττττττ

I drank a can of Cariboo Malt (8% alcohol) early into DC's Legends of Tomorrow ─ episode six ("Deus Ex Latrina") of season seven. I then had my supper as the episode played on, and even managed a second can of Cariboo Malt.

I love that series and the characters now since especially the past two seasons. When it is over with, I am going to have to track down some of the work of a few of the gorgeous actresses.

It took some doing to find a source here on my computer that would play the episode flawlessly, for a half dozen or more were failures. I won out with this link at Supernova.to. But it was frustrating trying to locate this gem.

I do not believe that I will bother seeking to do any early Sunday morning grocery shopping tomorrow ─ I only have $25 in my wallet. Maybe one of my two stepsons will make a mortgage contribution before I undertake my planned evening walk on Tuesday, and I will then have some money for shopping.

Consequently, even though I will be having my walk tomorrow a.m., I likely will not rise until 2 or even 3 a.m. to begin readying for it. Sundays are of course the quietest wee a.m. once the Saturday night partyers have all gotten home from wherever they were carousing. Thus, heading out too soon after midnight can result in encountering a lot of street traffic and other folks afoot.

So an 11 p.m. bedtime is not at all unreasonable.

At present, it is 9:30 p.m., so I am going to deem this post concluded and be prepared for my later bedtime. I am still home alone, and have been since the latter afternoon.