💀☠💀☠💀☠ Pressure and Time

There is nothing worse than recurring self-loathing.

I not only failed to get to bed anywhere near 9:30 p.m. last evening, but it was actually just past midnight. My wife had been home some while by then from her workday at the Thai restaurant, but I was hidden away behind my closed bedroom door.

I would have been insane to be trying to get up at 1:30 a.m. to begin readying for any five-mile+ walk, so I reset my cellphone alarm for 3 a.m. and hoped for the best.

A point arrived when I was awake after some sleep, and I recognized that I was feeling passably slept, so I peeked at the time: 2:57 a.m.

I rose then, cancelling my cellphone alarm.

Only my youngest stepson was still up. He was seated at his computer in the boys' den area with headphones on, and occasionally speaking with someone.

So I began readying.

When I was at last set to go, my fully clothed body weight ─ sans jacket ─ was around 182 - 183 pounds.

I got to the front door to sneak away, and had unlocked and opened it ... when I discovered that my house key was not in a card pocket of my wallet where I normally keep it.

I remembered when paying for the litre of whipping cream I was buying at Real Canadian Superstore Sunday evening that the key had half fallen out of said pocket when I was getting prepared to make payment. Did I then foolishly not heed its jeopardy, and subsequently had it again begin to slip out, but this time succeeding and I had noticed nothing?

I had not opened my wallet since that time, for I did not find the door locked when I got home thereafter, and this was to be my first time leaving home since then.

So I checked about around the door just in case it had fallen there; then I went upstairs to my bedroom and searched about fruitlessly. I think that I even had a look in the bathroom.

It was definitely lost.

Was my hike now off? Was I up for nothing?

That was unacceptable.

So I had no other recourse but to present myself to the 25-year-old at his computer, and request the loan of his house key. Since I would be gone for around two hours, I promised that I would leave it on his desk at my return.

Once I was finally on my way under a clear night sky, it was 3:35 a.m. And unexpectedly, the night air felt remarkably mild.

I was endowed with sufficient nervous energy that I made my early stop at the elementary school playground about three blocks away, confident enough that the equipment was going to be dry ... and it was. No condensation.

Off came my jacket, and with considerable heaving and use of my fluttering legs, I was able to pretty much match my late Summer personal bests that had become my targeted norms ... until bad Fall weather will make that impossible, and I would be wearing an encumbering jacket or coat, as well as gloves.

So this may have been a 'last hurrah' to see repetitions of 8-2-3-3-2-2 ─ a pair of sets each of pull-ups, then chin-ups, and finally pull-ups on a set of gymnastics-style rings with the very last of those held for a 40-count (maybe even a 45-count).

Then it was over to the cement ramp for a very difficult 14 full-range decline push-ups, the final of which had me cursing as I struggled to complete it.

And so this 74-year-old finally felt some encouragement.

There was to be one strange event during my walk, and it occurred when I had made the right angle turn that converted 97-A Avenue into what Google Maps indicates as both 137-B Street and / or 97-B Avenue. I just think of that short stretch of road as an extension of  Whalley Boulevard directly on the other side of Fraser Highway.

As it was, I was heading for that very intersection, and had quickly noticed that about midway along the short stretch of road was a large dark mass.

Was it trash? Some large injured or dead animal?

It is quite dark along there. It was not until I was essentially abreast of the dark mass that it seemed to me that I was perceiving the soles of a pair of feet facing my way. In the gloom of the night, I was certain that I could even make out a human form, possibly wearing a hood.

Just lying there in the centre of the road.

My suspicion was that it was somebody overcome with whatever drugs he had been taking, and who had simply crashed there because maybe the pavement had still been fairly warm. There is only the rare vehicle that uses that bit of road so very late into the night.

The figure was 'protected' by being within a painted median of sorts that separates the two lanes; so even though he was difficult to discern in the dark, no passing vehicle ought to be a threat unless the driver was recklessly speeding and not in control, or else was driving under the influence of something.

Since it was after 4 a.m. at that point, I felt that whoever was laying there was relatively safe enough, despite the risky choice.

Of course, he might already have been the victim of a hit-and-run driver.

As I always say, I am not out there in the wee a.m. hours of the night because I want to meet people ─ especially street people, the homeless, or junkies. So I continued on.

Sooner or later even a cop car would travel that route ─ I have seen them. And cabs are abundant enough ─ one of the drivers could contact the company dispatch, radioing in the discovery.

All else I have to report is how much heavier traffic along the rest of my route was to become ─ this is too late towards morning for me to be out walking, so I must ensure that I do not make this weekday error again.

I hurried on to be done with the outing, and was back outside the locked front door at 5:32 a.m., if I am remembering correctly ─ three minutes under two hours.

My youngest stepson had gone to bed, and even his older brother had risen and left for his 6 a.m. 12-hour day shift at Tree Island Steel.

I never returned to bed until around 7 a.m.

It was nearly 9:30 a.m. when later I rose, expecting that my younger brother was watching T.V. But he had not even yet emerged from his bedroom. My wife had already gotten up, though, apparently with another full workday in store at the restaurant where she works part-time.

We were only to exchange a good morning, and then say our goodbyes when she left just past 10 a.m. on her goodly drive.

By then I had been watching a 1⅓-hour (1:22:37) video published yesterday at Rumble's A Warrior Calls channel: PRESSURE AND TIME / WORLD IN CHAOS BY DESIGN.

Thursday Sept 19th 2024 Live Stream
Another powerful stream to educate all quickly on the solution with truth.
Pressure & Time is mounting in our world
There is ONE powerful solution again shown here for the world
Learn WHO you are then we take back Public Courts
Move Claims and Courts against people who Trespass
No Man or Woman can Hide behind the Maggot Lawyers/BAR

Ignorance remains the enemy as this evil worldwide attacks mankind.
We can stop this evil it requires correct conversation FIRST!

My brother had not yet come forth from his bedroom, and was not to do so until near 10:30 a.m. and the finish of the video.

He is no longer a fan of Christopher James Pritchard's episode after episode ranting, so I felt no guilt about having tuned in the episode and watched almost all of it by myself.

I then played some videos I had previously recorded, leading off with the last 20 minutes or so of a video we had to take leave from a couple days earlier. At 1⅓ hours, it had been published on March 25, 2022, at Rumble's America's Untold Stories channel: Levine's Bungalow Colony.

In the 1950s and 1960s working class New York families escaped the city to the Catskills. Mark Groubert of course had more adventures than most.

Mark Groubert's reminiscences can be an absolute hoot ─ I love the guy!

There were two or three short videos I do not deem worth mentioning, and we ended our viewing with The Adventures of Robin Hood ─ episode seven ("The Challenge") of season one.

I have now discovered that my original source on BitChute for the Robin Hood series has had his or her account removed. Fortunately, there are other sources, such as here at RerunCentury.com.

I must say, the bard involved in the show had a most soothing voice ─ was he the same singer singing the theme music? I have no idea ─ the credits say nothing of him.

Oh, dear, it's already after 7 p.m. ─ this blogging takes up so much of my time!

I had thought that my evening walk would involve me visiting a locksmith, but my brother early this afternoon said he would visit one on my behalf while he ran some errands before returning home to leave his van and then head off afoot for a bus so he could go drinking without legal risk.

I pushed $10 onto him of the remaining $15 that I had in my wallet, telling him to get more than one key.

Well, he left, and I soon was into my bed in pursuit of a needed nap. Meantime, he evidently returned and left again, but nowhere are any new keys.

I cannot have my evening walk if at least one of my stepsons are not home. The youngest is at present.

Note that the morning was so brilliantly sunny that I was wondering how to fit in some afternoon sunning. But by midday it had clouded over so utterly that no sunshine made further appearance.

Anyway, I considered having a beer and watching something on T.V., but I decided against having a drink until I was back home again from my walk.

My youngest stepson surprised me with a couple of tartly spiced pieces of take-out chicken that were most welcome, for I had eaten but once thus far. And now I am fortified for that walk.

It is 8:18 p.m., and I must be away!