I did sit up last evening watching shows with my younger brother and Bev once he showed up ─ a little before 9 p.m., I believe. And apparently from that point he drank nothing further because of his 9:30 a.m. appointment today to have the ignition interlock device removed from his van after having to put up with it for six months. He drank nothing more because he needed the assurance that the device would allow him to start his van, for he wanted to leave here by maybe 8:30 a.m. due to having to drive to the Queensborough area from here southwest of Whalley.
My wife arrived home soon after he did last evening ─ she after working the full day at the Thai restaurant where she is employed part-time.
I was to drink just two cans of Cariboo Malt (7.9% alcohol), and I used our Android TV Box to tune in two shows, beginning with Juliet Bravo ─ episode five ("Trouble at T’Mill") of season or series one.
I confess that lead actress Stephanie Turner never appealed to me as being attractive initially, looking far too much like Ellen DeGeneres; but over the past two episodes now I have found her to be actually quite comely.
If interested, I used this link at OK.ru as my episode source, but I see that it is supposedly also available at this Archive.org link.
The next show we were to watch was truly momentous ─ Vera. The reason for its import was because the episode was the very final episode of the entire series ─ episode two ("The Dark Wives") of season or series 14. As far as I know, we have watched every episode of the entire series ─ or at least I have, for sometimes my brother has been passed out.
I have downloaded the post-season documentary or series special that was broadcast just last month titled "Vera... Farewell Pet". My download source is again an OK.ru link. We'll get around to viewing it one morning in the fairly near future when my brother is fully sober.
My wife apparently had another full workday today, so she retired last evening before even Bev did (Bev almost always cashes out because her frail constitution cannot handle more than a few glasses of the white wine she likes to drink).
I am unsure if I was to bed by midnight.
My brother retired to his own bedroom where Bev had newly been taken by him, but after I was up awhile this morning (I rose around 6 a.m.), he came up the stairs from where he had gone last night due to being unable to sleep with Bev's constant COPD coughing, constant rolling about (even onto him), and occasional talking (he was unsure if she was doing so sensibly or in some delirium).
Thanks to my eldest stepson having moved out nigh a week ago to live with his girlfriend, my brother can seek refuge in the lad's vacated sleeping area for the present. Nevertheless, my youngest stepson hopes to turn that area into a sort of office, for he teleworks from home four workdays a week.
My brother thought to install Bev there, but the lad has threatened to me and his mother that he will move out if he has to share the downstairs area with her. Bev has assured my wife that she (Bev) has no intention of being relegated to that part of the house ─ the bed is immediately adjacent to the furnace and also close to the washer and dryer, and there is hardly any space for aught else. She feels my brother should acquire a larger bed ─ or as my wife has suggested to her, two small ones.
I was expected to go with my brother to his appointment this morning just in case he had to feign having a surrogate driver, for his driver's licence has a restriction on it indicating that his van is supposed to have the ignition interlock device installed. He thought that if necessary, he would con the mechanics that he was merely backing his van out of the garage for me to take over from there, but that was fortunately not required ─ they're not police and didn't seem to care. And I am unlicenced and have not driven anything since maybe back in 1982.
It proved to be a rather long wait once we were there ─ over an hour. At least the last half of our wait was in the company of a loquacious and heavily accented Polish chap who was also there to have a similar device removed from his vehicle. He was a rather burly-looking fellow, and seemed to have thick-lensed glasses that made him somewhat resemble a character on the Trailer Park Boys ─ Bottoms or something like that? Bubbles ─ that was it!
I think the chap said that in 1986 he was 12 years old. I got the impression that he thought my brother and I were reasonably near to being contemporaries of his.
My wife phoned me at one point, wondering if I was alone and free to talk. Somehow my phone was on speaker mode, so my brother heard the query. Since I had to say that I was not alone and freely able to talk, she asked that I phone her back when I was able. That was maybe around 10:30 a.m.
My brother and I were back home around 11 a.m. or soon after.
My wife and I never did talk, for twice when I phoned her, I hung up before her answering service took over. But we were to text.
She asked if Bev had slept in her eldest son's area last night? I of course said that she had not; but my brother eventually had to due to having his sleep impeded by her antics in the night, and he needed sleep for this appointment in the morning.
My wife was not up this morning when my brother and I left, nor was Bev. But my wife claimed that she (my wife) rose right as we were leaving, and that my brother's bedroom door was open, indicating that Bev was not in it.
But she further claimed that she ─ fully suspicious ─ went downstairs to her sons' den area, and she could hear stirrings coming from the contentious area where her eldest son had made into his bedroom.
Personally, I think my wife was hearing what she wanted to hear. Bev had absolutely no reason to be where my wife was claiming.
Besides, from the time Bev gets up, she turns on the T.V. and it has thus far been remaining on for the entire day until it finally gets shut off at night.
Frankly, this is getting a little annoying. I don't begrudge Bev use of the T.V., but it is all she does ─ watch it ceaselessly. It is as if she is a convalescing invalid.
And she cranks it up to '35', whereas for regular T.V. my brother and I are okay with '25'. Thus, it can be heard throughout the house ─ it is intrusive.
As well, her periodic COPD coughing does get a little annoying as well. It is not loud, for she has weak lungs. But it recurs every little while all day long.
She persists in maintaining her smoking habit, although she does go outside when she needs to partake.
My errand with my brother was an imposition in that I had wanted to rise early and have some exercise at the elementary school playground maybe three blocks away. I could have exercised (pull-ups and chin-ups) out in our backyard tool shed, but I prefer not doing so when my brother is aware ─ it is personal for me.
I thought that I might have my chance in the afternoon, for he was to keep a 2:30 p.m. appointment in the Guildford area apply to have the restriction on his driver's licence removed; but by the time he left to catch a bus to go there, I was too ravenous and weak to care to tax myself with exercising, for I had eaten nothing thus far today.
My brother bused primarily because (as he said to Bev) he wanted to do some drinking afterwards.
Well, guess what? He did ... and he was back home by 6:30 p.m. at the latest ─ so much for me hoping to be getting in an early evening.
At least I had some exercise here in the house, but I hoped for more. And now I am going to miss out on yet another early a.m. session at that school playground.
I might as well call this post complete and publish it. The only way I will be getting to bed is if my brother passes out for an extended period of time. That just may be possible ─ judging by his speech and tone where he is presently sitting in the living room with Bev and a newly opened beer, he is plastered and barely hanging onto consciousness.
I don't even want to try and watch any of our shows with him in this state, but it is too damned early for bed ─ it is only 6:49 p.m.
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