Punchy

I still don't know if my cellphone alarm will sound.

As reported a post or two ago, I found one night that it claimed to have been sounding for over an hour when I checked it for the time, but it was completely silent! That was three nights ago.

Two nights ago I rose long before it was set to ring, so I cancelled it. And last night when curious about the time with the alarm set for 3:30 a.m., I discovered the time to be 3:29 a.m., so I again cancelled the setting without bothering to see if it would sound.

I was to have my usual six-block walk to exercise my bad leg. I start off well enough, I suppose; but the ridiculously weakened and destabilized lower quadriceps muscles (and maybe one or more tendons) rather quickly fatigue out and I lose anything resembling a natural gait.

The late afternoon exercising I have of late been stressing the affected musculature with seems only to make the region 'touchy' the following morning, rather hampering than enhancing my ability with the leg.

It is certainly no help whatsoever that I cannot use our house's carpeted stairway to do any practicing with once Bev gets up, sitting as she does all day long watching T.V. in the living room in full view of that stairway. I have too many inhibitions to care to be providing her any entertainment at my cost.

Anyway, I am fairly confident that I was back to bed well before 6 a.m. this morning, and remained there until shortly after 8 a.m. My younger brother was by then already downstairs.

As usual I joined him after 9 a.m., but he never offered me the T.V. until something like 9:40 a.m.; thus I got us a later start on watching videos via our Android TV Box than I would have preferred.

First up was a seven-minute (7:41) video uploaded yesterday to YouTube's The WhatsHerFace Show channel: Surveillance State.

You may have noticed the soft policing and increasing crime trend happening around the world lately. This trend isn’t the result of DEI and it isn't a coincidence. The truth is there is a much more insidious purpose behind this sudden change…

Join me as we uncover the links between surveillance and servitude.

The next video I attempted was a disappointment, so we did not spend much time with it.

Third up was 55 minutes and had been streamed yesterday to Rumble's Tucker Carlson channel: Conor McGregor’s Presidential Bid, Tariffs, Erasing Irish Culture, and Deporting Rosie O’Donnell.

Conor McGregor says the Irish people are intentionally being erased by mass migration. He’s considering a run for president of Ireland to stop it.

I enjoyed that! Hell, I would vote for Conor if I lived in Ireland!

Our final video was a long documentary that we had to postpone watching because my brother wanted further bed rest ─ he had some sort of pool competition to attend at one of the pubs he visits, so early into the afternoon he was off for a bus to start his nearly daily social drinking.

My wife never emerged from her bedroom until around 10:15 - 10:30 a.m., so it seems unlikely to me that she left to go to work when she headed out the door wordlessly no later than 11 a.m. (probably well before).

After I had my early afternoon nap and was set to go downstairs for my day's third and final mug of instant coffee, I decided to maybe spend some time out in the backyard despite some aggravating high-pitched yipping by one of the two little house mutts beyond the backyard fence. Unfortunately, I found conditions to be so unexpectedly chilly that I didn't even put foot to ground.

The sky had more masses of haze drifting across the sky than I expected, as well as an unpleasant breeze, and I would have needed to have worn a jacket. So between all of that and the noisy freak beyond the fence, I abandoned the notion.

As each of my days wear on, I begin to think that I am capable of going forth early the coming Sunday morning to do some local shopping when people are most likely to not be outside as yet. But anytime I attempt an early a.m. walk, it swiftly appears any such venture is improbable. My leg is too 𝒹𝒶𝓂𝓃 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀ℯ𝒹.

And I don't know what I can do to recover ─ it is taking too long.

This will be a one-meal day, for apart from my three coffees with the works, my only meal will be my supper. My wife had texted me at 3:10 p.m. to do what I would with rice in the cooker and a pot of soup on the stove, putting what remained into the fridge.

This leaves me to believe that she is probably not coming home later.

I am going to take a break from this post now at 4:45 p.m.

★★★

With my brother still not home, nigh 9 p.m. I tuned in a show here on my bedside computer with which to enjoy a can of Cariboo Malt (7.9%), leaving me just three further cans in my nearly exhausted supply.

The show was The Rookie ─ episode eight ("Punch Card") of season six. It was both very involving as well as dramatic and exciting, even if it never affected me emotionally.

Bridget Regan sure is hot, and a serious bad-ass without scruples here and on Batwoman as Poison Ivy.

My initial source was this GOOJARA.to link for maybe the first third of the show; then it stalled, so I switched to this Tvids.net link that carried me until the final 10 minutes before it, too, stalled; so I returned to GOOJARA which played from that second stall point through to the video's conclusion.

My brother had arrived home some time during the episode, and now he and Bev have each other to drunkenly communicate with while they watch whatever they find of interest via the T.V.'s basic cable programming.

Then at about 10 p.m. I heard my wife come into the house, bantering a little with my brother and Bev. Apparently my wife is dealing with some sort of illness that I saw her mention on her Facebook yesterday ─ she actually took that day off work, but maybe she worked some or most of today (that's just my guess).

I am unsure what I will be doing in the early a.m., for I am sorely tempted to try and visit the Shoppers Drug Mart about four blocks away that opens at 8 a.m.

All else I have to report is being ludicrously randy, and that is why I am only now shutting down for the night at 11:48 p.m.