The plan last evening was that I would try to rise at 3 a.m. to make the two-mile round trip hobble to my financial institution's nearest ATM so that I could make a cash deposit.
After some sleep, I found myself awake again. I used the toilet, and saw that no one else was up, so I checked the time ─ it was around 2:15 a.m.
I realized that I could likely just make that outing earlier than planned, but my nerve left me. I was fearful of potential encounters. Life has a different perspective when one is crippled and unable to even walk with purpose, let alone actually run.
I felt vulnerable.
I had cancelled the cellphone alarm, but I did not straightaway return to bed. It was more like 3:45 a.m. when finally I did, my cellphone alarm now set for 6 a.m. to allow me a usual morning.
Is this what I have come to? I am fearful of going out into the night, whereas when I was younger and able-bodied the night was when I was at my best and most relaxed.
This concerns me, and makes me feel all the more abandoned by God.
I was to have my usual morning, rising a couple or so minutes after 6 a.m. because I was so reluctant to leave my bed.
I put a kettle of water on the stove to slow-boil, and went out to the front to water the garden areas, a half hour chore, as a rule.
I then drank my mug of instant coffee upstairs here at my bedside computer. A little past 7:30 a.m. I was out to the backyard tool shed for my 15 minutes of exercises there, opening with a very forced three pull-ups in a set ─ but only because I had managed three yesterday. The other five sets of pull-ups and chin-ups that followed only contained a single repetition each.
The squat work to strengthen my crippled right leg followed.
Back into the house well ahead of 8 a.m. I dished up a big bowl of congee my wife had cooked yesterday, and I ate that here at my bedside computer.
My younger brother emerged from his bedroom around 8:15 - 8:20 a.m. to watch his news shows on T.V. and have some coffee. At this point I was flagging, only wanting to return to bed.
Towards 9 a.m. I had to lie down with my eyes covered, and do my best to deeply relax for at least 10 minutes before hobbling downstairs to join my brother.
When he soon issued his invitation for me to take over the T.V., I brought our R69 Plus Android 14 TV Box to life and tuned in a 1⅓-hour (1:21:49) video streamed yesterday to YouTube's Shadoe Davis channel: May 20th/2026- Guest: Krissy Bremnes of Hard Pressed North on Substack!
Tonight: Krissy Bremnes of Hard Pressed North on Substack joins the show...her in-depth, highly researched articles are definitely worth the read and tonight we'll focus on how China has almost managed to gain control of the world through several mechanisms not the least of which is the UN and World Economic Forum and through people like Barrack Obama, George Soros, Mark Carney and others, also is there such a thing as Canadian identity, Mark Carney's net zero plan and so much more! Also a special announcement from Tamara Lich who'll be joining the show next week!
Krissy's X (formerly Twitter) channel: Hard Pressed North. And her Substack of the same name: Hard Pressed North.
I next switched over to our T95Q Android 9 TV Box and the USB drive or stick inserted in it, and we watched the remaining two thirds of the documentary we had broken from yesterday morning. At 48 minutes (48:41), it had been uploaded January 8, 2021, to YouTube's Free Documentary - History channel: World War II: The 13 Hours That Saved Britain | Free Documentary History.
A programme to commemorate anniversary of the Battle of Britain, told through the technology, the heroes of the time and the spirit and determination of the British people.
2010 marks the anniversary of the Battle of Britain – this film marks this important occasion, paying tribute to all those who ended Nazi intentions of gaining control of the British skies prior to landing some 30,000 troops on the shores of southern England.
13 Hours That Saved Britain explores the events of a single day, 15th September 1940 – the day Churchill described as the ‘crux of the battle’, a day that is now celebrated as Battle of Britain Day. Dramatic colour film footage of aerial combat combined with contemporary interviews will illustrate that the events of seventy years ago still resonate with a new generation.
The documentary is a gripping and powerful account of the pilots of Fighter Command who defended Britain in the summer of 1940 and the strong arm behind the shield, a nation united to defend its freedom and pave the way for the eventual victory.
It truly was a gripping and excellent feature ─ I was delighted and surprised.
I must break from this post now, for it is already after 6 p.m. My afternoon ran away on me, partly because it was a bath day.
I want to get into a couple cans of Cariboo Malt (7.9% alcohol) and watch a show or two here on my bedside computer, so I will conclude the post well into the evening.
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After firing off an email to the agents for our home insurance ─ the renewal package arrived in today's post ─ in which I enquired about being billed monthly instead of being hit with the big annual billing for the next term that commences June 14, I tuned in a Christmas movie.
Yesterday or the day before I had discovered two Alicia Witt Christmas movies that were released in 2013, yet I had never watched them before ─ yet I was sure I had.
I tried one yesterday thinking that its write-up was familiar ─ which it was. But apparently there was another Christmas movie with a similar storyline. This quickly became apparent when I tried this mystery Christmas movie out.
So I tried the same sampling with the second movie early this evening, for it also seemed to have a familiar storyline.
Yet I fast realized that it, too, was previously unwatched by me, and I simply do not understand how this can be ─ I consider Alicia Witt a dream girl because of how much she resembles one of the most alluring women of my life back in the late 1970s and early 1980s, Jean C.
A Snow Globe Christmas was, frankly, awful for the longest while ─ so pathetically hoaky. Even Alicia wasn't appreciable, the premise was so inferior. However, two or three times I did find myself touched deep into the movie.
It was the last part ─ I don't know, 20 minutes or less? That did it for me, breaking me down. The tears. And as so often happens when I watch such fare alone while drinking (in this case, two cans of beer), it became so starkly clear that I have no further value and see no purpose in living further. Everything I always hoped for and wanted have become unrealizable in the situation I am locked into. Even my marriage is lost.
The only hope I have is to be able to buy my way out with a massive lottery win. Otherwise, if I am to remain in thrall to the debts I allowed my marriage to result in, and to keep on living in this prison that is my home here in Sikh-dominant Surrey, I have no will to live, nor anything to fight for.
The movie was done by 7:59 p.m., and my source had been at this OK.ru link ─ initially it was very blurry for a minute or two, but then the video quality sharpened right up almost immediately.
To top up or off my evening, I poured a dozen ounces of Domaine d'Or red wine (12% alcohol) and tuned in Profiler ─ episode 10 ("Shattered Silence") of season one.
It was good! It of course never touched me emotionally ─ it was simply beautifully and dramatically ─ suspensefully ─ distracting, despite the video being poor quality.
My source was at Goojara-official.co.za, and the show was done by 9:52 p.m.
I quickly realized that my brother was apparently recently home from his early afternoon public transit to go social drinking, leaving Bev here occupying the living room and keeping me shut up here in my wee bedroom where I am resigned to having to watch my shows on this computer.
Right now it is 10:23 p.m., so I am going to publish this post and start shutting down everything that needs it, then I will retire for the night ... although I just may set my cellphone alarm for 4 a.m. on the scant chance that I may have it in me to get up and get out to do that ATM deposit a mile or so from here.
It is crushing being a pathetic, shamefully feeble version of who I once was.
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