Last evening's foolish excessive drinking took its toll. When my 2 a.m. cellphone alarm sounded to get me up to begin readying for my usual five-mile+ walk, I was desirous of nothing more than a return to sleep.
I could scarcely believe how inadequately slept I felt. I almost did not force myself up from bed.
It still sounded to be lightly raining outside.
There was no need to weigh myself fully clothed for the walk because I was not going to be stopping for any exercise at the elementary school playground maybe three blocks from here. Exercising was inconceivable. Even by the time I was adjacent to the school, I knew that I didn't have it in me to exercise ─ not even if the equipment had been perfectly dry.
I am unsure when I left home ─ could it have been as early as 2:26 a.m.? I later thought that the time might have been 2:56 a.m., but that seemed almost impossible because I did not feel myself to have wasted nearly an hour before leaving.
There was to be an event that led me to shorten my walk by about two miles due to how much time got lost.
This is a screenshot of the area where the event occurred:
Immediately below that red marker and on the right or East side of 134th Street is the employees' driveway into the rear of what I used to know as the Surrey Taxation Centre.
If you follow along that driveway due East to where it suddenly does a right angle turn to travel 'up' the map, you can see a thickened extension that I believe is just the entrance to the building's loading docks.
What is not shown is that at that right angle turn of the actual driveway, there is a sidewalk that runs East, and allows the pedestrian to walk all the way through to King George Boulevard ─ in fact, it arrives directly across from 97-A Avenue.
Well, at the start of that sidewalk where it continues from the rear driveway that does the right angle turn, I came across what I initially considered might be an abandoned cache of some homeless person's collection of scavenged garbage.
However, I quickly recognized that a bicycle might be lying there in the dark, and maybe even a human form.
It was only very lightly raining to an almost imperceptible degree, but that might not have been so earlier or however long this person had first arrived.
I see drug users on a regular basis and do my best to avoid them ─ even any that are lying on the ground. So I kept walking towards King George Boulevard, but soon enough I could hear faint calls from behind that were clearly cries for help.
The voice was not some guttural male's, so it was likely a young man or teen, or even a woman.
Rather reluctantly but resolutely, I turned back. At that point the hooded figure had struggled to his or her feet, but with back towards me and bent right over as if not having secure or balanced footing.
The calls were almost continuous, but inaudible for the most part due to unclear expression and an extremely subdued volume.
It was a rather young woman attired in mainly dark clothes. She always had her head low, so her face was never apparent ─ in fact, I hardly ever had a glimpse of it.
I couldn't clearly understand if she had hurt herself in a fall, but betimes as I helped her gather together items that had spilled from her tote bag, she would suddenly cry out in pain if she made a wrong step. Yet she seemed able to stand equally on both feet, so I was unsure just where her damage was.
Her bicycle had a sturdy carriage, but the bike itself was a monstrously heavy specimen. I got it erect with a little difficulty, and then did my best to find out from the lass where she was going, or if she even knew where she was.
She was with no sense of where she was, so I indicated the direction of the highway, and explained that the building near us was Canada Revenue Agency ─ which might not have meant anything to her if she had never held employment and thus not filed a tax return.
She still appeared unsure, so I pressed to know where she had been bound. Still barely able to hear and understand her stream of nearly inaudible words, I did recognize that she was bound for some manner of shelter located along the King George between 96th and 98th Avenues.
I could not recollect any such shelter.
Now committed to assisting her, we gradually moved together in the direction of the highway. It quickly seemed that she was not able to locomote unaided, and needed to push along her cumbersome bicycle herself because it afforded her the support she required.
We were barely moving ahead, she was so tentative and slow. A few times she lamented how cold she was and so badly wanted a blanket.
Never would she raise her head so I could see her.
If you refer to that map again, along King George and just below 97-A Avenue is a business listed as being Mucho Burito Fresh Mexican Grill. Well, if so, it is not the entire structure, for I am only familiar with Browns Socialhouse.
The girl recognized Browns Socialhouse when she saw the building, and claimed that the shelter she was after was in the back of the building ─ all news to me!
So gradually we worked our way in the direction of Browns Socialhouse, but getting across King George Boulevard was a bit tricky due to how unable to walk the girl was. Thankfully, there was no traffic at that point until we reached the centre of the highway, for I had worry that we would not make it across without forcing oncoming traffic to stop ─ and the driver(s) of which would of course only see two stoned street people with a bicycle who were hardly able to walk across a street.
Here is a photo of Browns Socialhouse from the vantage of 97-A Avenue ─ unseen well to the right is King George Boulevard:
We walked slowly alongside the building, she assuring me that the shelter entrance was near the rear.
And so it was ─ we got to that door in the very corner of the building in this next image. She pulled it open, for it was unlocked; and we gradually entered into a short hallway that led to two further doors, one of which she indicated was where she had to go.
But that was as far as she had us go ─ she didn't open the next door.
I set the stand for her bike so that it was secure on its tires. She had leaned against a wall, but her feet started to slide forward, so I had to stabilize her.
I think this was when she looked up into my face for the very first time. I still couldn't see much of her face, but she appeared quite young.
I also got a good look at her hands. She'd recently had at least a thumbnail painted yellow, but it was her hands and fingers that stood out for me ─ they seemed so swollen. They looked like they belonged on a rather obese woman. Had it only been one hand, I would have suspected that she had sprained or broken her wrist or arm, but both hands were this way.
Hard living, perhaps?
There was a plastic case or crate nearby on the floor of the sort that the dairy industry uses to carry milk bottles, jugs, and cartons in. It was upturned to use as a stool, so she worked herself down onto it.
I should here mention that once when we were still on the sidewalk by Canada Revenue Agency and just beginning our walk together, she did lose her balance with a painful cry and fell onto the wet lawn onto her back, so she was undoubtedly in fairly bad shape.
Here in the hallway of her shelter, it seemed clear to me that she didn't want me to continue any further into the 'inner sanctum', so I got her assurance that she was going to be okay if left her on her own. There was no sense in me just standing around helplessly if she was only going to stall.
Meantime, she just seemed to gradually bend forward and her torso sink down and over as if she was going to fall asleep. That short hallway was definitely very well heated, so she was likely yielding to its comfort.
I wish that she had communicated with me clearly. And I would have felt more easy about leaving her if she had allowed me to get her to her room, if she had something like that to herself. But maybe it was more like an open community, and this was why she seemed reluctant to continue on through the door with me?
I wanted to give her $20, but in her state I knew that if she didn't lose it, someone was likely to lift it from her.
I checked the time a little afterwards, and it was something like 3:38 a.m. Since I was not even a quarter of the way through my usual and intended walk, it was going to be much later than I cared to be out ere it was done, so I opted to knock the two miles off the normal distance trekked.
I was probably back to bed ahead of 6 a.m., but I cannot now recall when it was that I rose this morning. I was a little surprised that my younger brother was not downstairs watching T.V., but his bedroom door was pulled tight, as was my wife's.
He never did emerge from his bedroom until around 11:20 a.m., claiming to have risen early for a while, and then to have returned to bed.
By then I had whipped through a 1½-hour+ video published November 3 at Rumble's A Warrior Calls channel: If Whole World Watched This Evil Exposed /Powerful Solution Saves Mankind. It had actually been recorded on Hallowe'en.
I advance through a lot of Christopher James Pritchard's videos now because I have become far too weary these past three or so years of his constant harping about what he's going to do when he is appointed in charge of prosecuting our corrupt politicians, police, health 'authorities', etc., in a Common Law court. Nor am I interested in his advertising for certain products ─ I whip through that nonsense, too.
One thing that especially annoyed me was his haranguing of viewership for not flooding certain people like the head of RCMP with the material Christopher has put together. Basically, he is challenging them to a judgement via court.
He doesn't explain enough about what the Hell he is seeking to accomplish, nor does he clearly identify just what his Common Law process is ─ he always uses the same Common Law phrasing that means almost nothing to me.
I can't back that. Not if I do not understand what he is declaring. And I especially hate the inferior grammar and error-ridden punctuation that he employs in his compositions.
My brother joined me for the tail end of a shorter Christopher video in which he was interviewing a guest. At well under a half hour, it had been published two days ago, but recorded October 28: YOURNEWS.COM MEDIA GAME CHANGER /FIGHT EVIL WORLDWIDE.
This is an incredible discussion with Sam Anthony [Founder/CEO] of yournews.com
The fight is on for mankind and this approach to stop controlled media is here.
Yournews.com is a bright light for reporting and investigative work to get out
Local, Provincial/State, National and Global is all now within reach.Join me for a great discussion and meet Sam who loves this world as do i
We are seeing huge groups start to finally come together to stop this evil.
Sam is one such light this world needs so check out yournews.com
At maybe noon, was brother was to leave ─ he reportedly had a 'celebration of life' to attend for his much senior drinking buddy Fred, who recently died in a care facility.
I sought a needed nap into the latter half of the noon hour, and remained abed until a little after 2:30 p.m. By then my brother had evidently returned home to leave his van and then leave again to catch a bus so he could go drinking.
My wife had also risen and was finishing up getting ready to work beginning a little later in the latter afternoon at the Thai restaurant that employs her part-time. She alerted me to a pasta dish that she had prepared; and then asked that I e-Transfer $100 to her to help cover a deficiency in an upcoming payment of some sort ─ she said that she had yesterday sent her mother in Thailand $400, so she was low on cash now.
I did eventually do that.
I had a bath in the late afternoon, and thereafter broke my Sabbath fast because it was by then night. Note that when stripped down for the bath, I weighed 177-178 pounds.
I considered watching a show so that I could justify a bit of drink, but ultimately I chose to fix up a half litre mug of instant coffee and cocoa power with honey and liquid whipping cream ─ it could have been sweeter, but it served.
I also failed to get into any drink and T.V.-watching because this post took so damned long. And then my brother arrived back home at about 10:10 p.m.
Sundays are my day for grocery shopping hikes, beginning with an early morning jaunt that I try to leave here at 6 a.m. for. To ease into the venture, I like to rise at 4 a.m. and take my time normalizing.
I shall be back to bed by 11:30 p.m. at latest to ensure sufficient sleep for that outing. The day never dried out because extremely light periods of rain recurred, so I hope it is no worse by the time I leave here in the morning.
I feel that I have said enough for today's post, so I am calling it quits here at 10:46 p.m.
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