I never went to bed at all soon following publication of yesterday's post. I was not rid of my enslavement to depraved addiction until (I believe) a little past 12:30 a.m.
There would not even be a feeble attempt to rise early for any manner of outing.
As I slept, and then had slight wakeful stretches, I was aware of very audible rain outside. Had I been able to get up for an outing, I would not have achieved anything but the walk. Exercise at the elementary school playground would have been impossible.
I had no desire for excessive consciousness and the guilt that goes with it, so I sought to sleep for as long as possible this morning. That plan was finally foiled when I heard a garbage truck making the rounds in the neighbourhood ─ I was certain that my besotted younger brother never bothered last evening to set out the compost and garbage (recycling is next Wednesday) wheelie bins.
It was 8 a.m. when I rose and began hurriedly dressing while it still rained outside.
But I was too late ─ the trash truck was already out front. I could only stand inside the house impotently watching it drive past us to a neighbour's bin.
Well, ours probably is only half full ─ or little more; so we ought to be okay for another two weeks. I was at least able to put our the compost bin ─ my brother had mowed the lawns (mostly hairy cat's ear stems and flowers ... and probably some hapless bees that were unaware of the mower coming as they busily worked for nectar in the flowers), so the compost bin was fuller than usual.
I could not justify failing to exercise in the backyard tool shed, so out there I next went.
It was the typical of late workout, although I never had the heart to endure for a 50-count dead hang. Instead, I quit at 30 or so, and then repeated the count for a second hang after a 30-count break. I just lacked heart.
I came back into the house to find the kettle heating up ─ my brother was standing in front of the still-silent T.V. using the remote to get it turned on.
I passed along the bad news about the garbage bin as I hobbled upstairs to my bedroom.
It was darned near 9:15 a.m. before I came back downstairs to join him for morning T.V. By then he was all ready for me to take over the T.V. with our Android TV Box.
My first video choice was four-fold ─ the four latest short videos at YouTube's Redacted channel:
- The TRUTH about the Moon base is now coming out, here's their disclosure plan | Redacted (16:31) uploaded yesterday
NASA just announced it's building a nuclear reactor on the moon. Yep. Let that sink in for a second. A nuclear reactor…on the moon. At a time when America doesn't have a modern energy grid here at home. Here is Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy saying the next battle will be fought on the moon.
- Why are these Congress clowns kissing a wall? | Redacted News (7:46) uploaded yesterday
Is Trump's base collapsing under his support of Israel?
- Hang on! Now Ukraine is recruiting 14-year-olds to fight NATO's proxy war? | Redacted News (7:59) uploaded yesterday
First it was 60 year olds, now 14-year-olds are being recruited by Zelensky to fight and die in NATO’s proxy war against Russia.
- CNN just dodged a MAJOR bullet by firing this clown (5:58) uploaded today
Jim Acosta, ousted CNN anchor, interviewed an AI version of a victim of the Parkland shooting about gun violence on his independent show.
It developed that my next show choice was our last, for my brother begged off around 10:30 a.m. to begin readying for a barber appointment he had set up for late in the morning. But at least he got to watch Riverdale ─ episode 13 ("Chapter Eighty-Nine: Reservoir Dogs" ) of season five.
While he readied himself upstairs, I put together my day's first small meal and ate that here at my bedside computer. I suspect that by this time the rain may finally have subsided, so my brother's drive was likely a dry one.
I never returned to my bed for a nap until well into the noon hour, which was just after my brother had returned and gone into his bedroom to probably cope with residual shavings from his haircut.
I slept well enough; and I think that it could have been as much as 2 p.m. when I rose. My brother was watching T.V. with Bev, but before too long I heard him take his leave to go and catch a bus so he could commence his daily social drinking.
There has been a lot of blue sky and sunshine this afternoon, but also vast expanses of heavy dark cloud. By tomorrow afternoon, I should be back to my 1½ hours of sunning after what will have been a three-day break.
Right now it is 4:08 p.m. and I am going to break from this post. Today is a bath day. I also want to have some exercise in my wife's vacant bedroom. Heck, I am even considering watching a Christmas movie to potentially get the distaste I am feeling for myself due to last night's conduct, but I would need to strike upon just the right type of Christmas movie and any I have recently seen haven't been that sort ─ the emotional impact has been unexpectedly feeble due to the movies' general mudanity.
As I said, though ... we shall see. First I want to exercise.
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Well, I did watch a Christmas movie ─ 2018's A Wedding for Christmas. Initially I regretted it because I wasn't in the mood for something that already seemed so removed from my own reality.
But surprisingly, quite early on I began to sense something about the movie that began to affect my sentimentality. And before long, I was tearing and even snuffling.
No one in these movies is ever ultimately bad, but the main female character (played by Cristine Prosperi) and even her boss (played by Vivica A. Fox) were not exactly nice people. Everyone else were pretty much okay by me.
I cannot lay claim to knowing any of the actors and actresses in the movie. The main character's mother was played by Lesli Kay ─ I loved her unusual facial structure and fierce, lioness eyes. A less supporting actress was someone who I thought resembled "Rowdy" Ronda Rousey ─ the character, I thought, was going to prove a singer, but this never happened. Her name was Hayden Tweedie:
But there was never anything more involving her than showing her as possibly acting as a for-hire deejay. Yet at one point in the movie when it was switching scenes that usually means a T.V. show is having its scheduled commercial break skipped past, there seemed to be a segment of a dance or other social occasion that was only glimpsed and jumped past ─ could it have been a performance showing the character actually singing?
But I am speculating and am likely far off track. Still, my movie source was this OK.ru link, and the movie is listed as 1:26:14; whereas other sources show it as running 1:28:04 and even 1:28:24 (this uFLIX.to link). Those two minutes had to be deleted somewhere, right?
So what was cut?
I drank two cans of Cariboo Malt (7.9% alcohol) during the movie, and forced myself to have my supper during the remainder of the show to halt further drinking because I wanted to watch something else before bed if I could.
Well, before I had yet had my bath, my brother got home. I then had my time-consuming bath, and by the time I was back here at my bedside computer, I was almost dismayed to find that it was 9 p.m.
I still had a few things to do before bedtime, which I did not want to be after 10 p.m. Thus, cramming in another show would have made that bedtime impossible.
So I tackled my things needing doing, and now it is 9:50 p.m. What the Hell?
I must proofread and publish this, shut things on my computer down, and get to bed ─ I want to get up at 3 a.m.
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