Walk Alone

Although I failed to retire ahead of midnight last night, I doubt I was as much as 15 minutes past. Nor did I have any more drinks over the evening than is usual.

Yet when my 6 a.m. alarm chimed, I felt myself to be heavily hungover. It was appalling. All I can imagine is that my early evening supper ─ my day's only meal ─ caused me heavy dehydration due to its salt and spicy content.

I never even felt the need for a pee break overnight.

This was nasty.

Then when I later checked my bank account online after I had basically gotten ready to go and do some local grocery shopping despite how I was feeling, I discovered that if I withdrew $200 (I only had $20 in my wallet), then I would be left with less than $55 after next Thursday's mortgage payment is automatically debited.

My monthly pension income won't be getting deposited until during the final workweek of this month.

This so shook me that I lost resolve and confidence about getting out and conducting any business. I needed to be more stable and clear-thinking.

So I shall make the effort tomorrow morning, since it is Family Day here in B.C., and thus the early morning may be no busier than a Sunday morning ... or at least a Saturday morning. I cannot bear the busy mornings of the workweek, so I never go anywhere during the week anymore.

I just must ensure that I do not have a substantial supper, my day's second meal today. I have no intention of foregoing my usual drinks, for those and the bit of T.V. I watch here on my bedside computer are my pitiful day's highlights each and every day ─ I have nothing else now in my crippled old age.

When at 8 a.m. this morning I realized that I would normally exercise out in the backyard tool shed if I was not doing any shopping, I did not have the heart, let alone the well-being. So I forsook the experience ─ it would have been most unkind to have risked the challenge.

Did I not have morning T.V. with my brother as a normal thing, I would have returned to bed. But I awaited his emergence from his bedroom for the morning, which event occurred around 8:30 a.m. at latest.

When we got together for our morning of T.V., it developed that due to the length of the video we were to watch, no time was left for aught else. At 2½ hours (2:33:22), the video had been published two days ago to Rumble's The Joe Rogan Experience Podcast: Joe Rogan Experience #2454 - Robert Malone, MD.

Robert W. Malone, MD, MS, is a virologist and immunologist and an original inventor of mRNA delivery and vaccination as a technology, DNA vaccination, and multiple non-viral DNA and RNA/mRNA platform delivery technologies. He serves on the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices and is the author of multiple books, the most recent of which is “PsyWar: Enforcing the New World Order,” co-written with his wife, Dr. Jill Glasspool Malone. The Drs. Malone are the founders of the Malone Institute, which focuses on issues related to government, the biological sciences, and medicine.

There are five reference links of Dr. Malone's at Rumble, so please go there if you are interested in finding out more concerning the good man.

I had a meal during the beginning of the video, and even halfway through the meal I was not finding my stomach at all receptive of what I was feeding it. Whatever went amiss with me last evening and overnight was nothing trivial.

After my brother returned to his bedroom for further bed rest following the video, it was likely very early into the noon hour that I was back to bed to escape this most unpleasant state.

I reluctantly roused and rose because I did not know the time, and I felt some guilt that possibly my wife might have gone to work for the latter part of the day, for she never went this morning as she usually does on Sundays. I found it be be 1:30 p.m., but she was no longer home. It was far too early if she was scheduled for the latter part of the day because the Thai restaurant typically closes from something like 3 - 4:30 p.m.

Well, it was to develop that she must have only been out on errands and was back shortly past 3 p.m. Also, I was to learn that she had taken the day off work because she has been feeling a little unwell for the past week and felt she should take a pause.

Last night after I was shut up in my bedroom and getting set to go to bed, she had gotten home and came and lightly tapped upon my bedroom door, realizing that my bedroom light was not yet turned off. Still with her cap and coat on from having just gotten home, she sweetly and rather desperately wanted to poach an unopened four-litre box of Sommet Rouge wine that she had seen in my bedroom the day before. Apparently she had nothing of her own to enjoy in the couple or so hours that she was likely to be remaining up before her bedtime.

I was tickled to be able to give her the gift of wine, for all she got from me on Valentine's Day were my good wishes.

Anyway, with her home and going nowhere this afternoon, I opted to have the tool shed exercising that I skipped this morning.

I performed a tad better than I have of recent mornings in that I opened with two repetitions in the first of two sets of pull-ups, and I did the same in the following first of two sets of chin-ups; but all four of the other sets were represented with just a single repetition.

Then I engaged the squats to keep my damaged right knee and quadriceps muscles taxed so as not have any layoff stagnation set in.

Okay, right now it is 5:33 p.m. and my wife has been shut up in her bedroom in pursuit of a nap. She dished me up a very light supper (light at my request) that has been enjoyed, so now I am going to break from this post and soon enough get underway watching the first of three T.V. shows here on my bedside computer while enjoying a can of Cariboo Malt (7.9% alcohol).

I will finish the post in the latter evening.

🟩🟩🟩

My first show finished up at 6:57 p.m., and although I was not fussy about how it ─ and the entire series, in fact ─ ended (for it was completely open-ended), the realism of the acting during the cup soccer (football) match after two season of watching had me not only in tears, but a few times I was literally hopping about and raising my fists as if I was truly involved in witnessing a beloved team and its players play.

It is beautiful when a show can do this to a viewer.

I am speaking of the Norwegian series Heimebane ─ and specifically, episode eight ("Never Walk Alone"), which was the wonderful series finale. My source was this VexMovies.biz.id link.

An awesome series, despite being in Norwegian and requiring English subtitles for my benefit!

My second show and can of beer were done by 8:23 p.m. The show was FBI: International ─ episode 15 ("They May Get Their Wish") of season four. My source was this TVSeries.video link.

I enjoyed this episode because I absolutely despise cultists of any kind ─ even those zealots of vaccination or Globalist political parties.

My third and final show ─ as well as around eight ounces of Sommet Rouge wine (12% alcohol) ─ were done by 10:05 p.m. The show was The Rookie ─ episode 17 ("Mutiny and the Bounty") of season seven. And my source was again a TVSeries.video link.

"Skip Tracer Randy" is almost always a hoot ─ his character could easily have been spun off into his own series, but all realism would need to be suspended unless they reworked nearly everything about the guy and made him more plausible instead of slapstick.

I must get to bed. ...