It's Just You and Me Now...

If not for my usual 6 a.m. cellphone alarm, I am certain that I could easily remain in bed until after 8 or even 9 a.m. It is not that I am sleeping throughout; rather, I have relatively short blocks of sleep that could continue on and on after wakeful breaks, provided that I do not accentuate those wakeful breaks by making much notice of them.

If I rouse too much by starting to fret on my woes, or the day or even the morning ahead, then I am lost and might as well just rise from bed.

This morning after rising I got excessively involved with the troublesome R69 Android 14 TV Box, but I installed the BrowseHere browser app and uninstalled the nearly useless advertisement-riddled Chrome browser and the TV Bro browser. And through the BrowseHere browser, I was finally able to locate and download the simple Loudly audio-boosting app that was most serviceable in our old T95Q Android 9 TV Box.

I believe I uninstalled another app that I cannot now recall, but I will undoubtedly be ridding the Android TV Box of others. I want rid of the Home screen as well ─ I am considering installing FLauncher as its replacement.

I got so damned involved this morning that it was 8 a.m. before I had taken care of my usual morning backyard tool shed exercising session, pathetic though it be. But this oversight was enough to dissuade me from it entirely.

My younger brother was not to emerge from his bedroom until maybe 9:20 a.m., by which time I was set to play a 1⅓-minute (1:23:00) video streamed two days ago to YouTube's Redacted channel: Holy SH*T! This is a FAKE ceasefire! Thousands of American soldiers heading to Middle East.

Was Trump's big ceasefire all one big cover up? A fake ceasefire in order to build up missile stocks, troops in the region? It sure seems that way.

I do not know how my brother fared, but I had so much trouble focussing that the whole thing was boring and meant little to my comprehension ─ I was 'tuned out' so often.

When it was done, I tuned in an old (1948) black & white movie of very poor quality, but we only got about half way through when my brother announced his intention to return to his bedroom for more bed rest.

My wife had emerged from her bedroom well ahead of 11 a.m., for she evidently only had to work the latter part of today at the Thai restaurant where she is employed part-time.

She headed out to apparently do some shopping, so fairly early into the noon hour I was back to bed for a nap, and I remained there till 1:30 p.m., having enjoyed a very nice dream involving a lovely young lady who may have been from my past (i.e., Jean Cooper). I seemed to be a younger man. All I can remember of the dream was that she and I were both eager to get to bed together and cuddle up snugly.

My wife was back when my nap was done; and as earlier, she was busy in the kitchen. Apparently my brother had already left for a bus to carry him off to social drink.

Towards 3 p.m. I decided to have my missed tool shed exercise session; and in heading out the sliding glass door to our sundeck, for the first time today my wife bothered to speak to me, indicating that she had some food on the counter I could help myself to.

The exercising was as expected ─ a pathetic single repetition in all six sets of pull-ups and chin-ups, followed by the squat work to strengthen my crippled right leg.

I came back into the house to find that my wife had gone.

Incidentally, I had felt a bit of rain outside this overcast day.

Towards 4 p.m. ─ since this was a bath day ─ I tackled that hour-long chore. My naked weigh-in was a disappointing 184 pounds, for I had eaten nothing as yet today, apart from two morning mugs of coffee with the works. I had expected that I might be as low as 180 pounds.

I have discovered that while I was napping, my brother nipped out and made a beer run ─ I was planning on going with him tomorrow, for it seemed to me his supply was adequate for this evening.

This is also disappointing. I was banking on buying another four-litre box of wine. Now I am likely going to sacrifice my Sunday morning grocery hobble tomorrow and instead visit the private liquor store a half mile or so from here.

But the buggers don't have an online inventory of their stock, so I don't know what the prices are like.

It's 7:09 p.m. right now ─ time to break for at least a couple of T.V. shows here on my bedside computer, and a couple of cans of Cariboo Malt (7.9% alcohol).

🟧🟧🟧

Very early into my first show my computer crashed. When I got it rebooted, I used a different website source in case some strain at the initial website source contributed to my computer's failure. My second choice played through faultlessly.

The show was Van Helsing ─ episode five ("Liberty or Death") of season four. My play-through source was this M4uFree.cx link.

It was very good. Actor Christopher Heyerdahl always makes a damned good creep! 

The show and my first can of beer were done by 8:17 p.m., and I very quickly realized that my brother had joined Bev downstairs at some point.

My second show was Madam Secretary ─ I'm never fussy for this one. Tonight it was episode 13 ("Chains of Command") of the first season. And as with Van Helsing, an M4uFree.cx link played flawlessly.

Despite my reluctance to have to watch the show, it was of course interesting; and I even felt some emotion towards the end ─ a large reason that I watch my shows. I want to be touched; but I also look forward to being rousingly inspired. However, that latter emotion is not commonly found.

Anyway, the show and my second beer were done by 9:28 p.m.

Last up ─ along with 12 or so ounces of Sommet Rouge wine (12% alcohol) ─ was Betrayal. Specifically, episode nine ("It's Just You and Me Now...") of the only season. My source this time was a TVSeries.video link ─ no problem with it whatsoever.

I find myself almost rooting for these two adulterers ─ if only each had an abusive or corrosive spouse that might justify what they have done!

I continue rehearsing my own involvement back in the earliest 1990s with a beautiful married woman who had two kids, but was unhappily married. The only complaint she ever lodged was that her husband smothered her by never letting her be alone when he was home. She would try to have a smoke break or something out on the doorstep, but he wouldn't even give her that much freedom from him ─ he had to be present as well.

Same when she had a phone call from someone ─ he was steadfast about being present and attentive.

She was so beautiful! I had never been involved with her like, despite what I may write in relation to others who were unquestionably all alluring. She just had that edge over them. When I was once pointing her out from a distance to a close friend at some park where a public family event was taking place, he kept misidentifying whom I was trying to give his notice to ─ he kept asking if it was this or that other woman he was seeing ─ because he couldn't compute that I could possibly have meant the awesome spectacle I was trying to pinpoint for his curiosity's sake.

When he realized whom I meant, he was incredulous. Regardless, I feel so much guilt over what went on with her and I ─ guilt over what I helped come to pass.

But enough. Yes, this series does delve considerably into my own experience.

The show and the glass of wine were done by 10:35 p.m., by which time I had realized that my wife was home from work and busy in the kitchen again.

Right now it is 11:08 p.m., and I still should brush my teeth ere shutting things down and getting to bed. Tomorrow is, of course, tomorrow.