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Friday, April 27, 2018

One Wasted Friday

Oh, such a lost day!

And all the consequence of finally having drinks with a neighbour (Arun) for the first time since I think that my younger brother Mark and I moved into this house in late June 2002.

Mark and I both have talked with the fellow on occasion, although not often ─ for my part, it is surprising how effectively I have managed not to coincide with him outside of our homes during all of these years.

So yesterday we made up for lost time, sitting near the mouth of the alleyway that separates our homes and leads from our cul-de-sac out to a main avenue.

The alleyway is blocked off to vehicular traffic, but it does get rather frequent pedestrian use by folks shortcutting to or from that avenue.

I lose the plot on how things ended ─ I think it was probably just Arun and I by then. We had gotten into some hard liquor after the beers.

Whatever the case, my next memory is waking up in my bed around 9:30 p.m. And not much after I then came downstairs, my younger brother Mark arrived home from 'the bar.' 

My wife Jack had worked that day over in Langley, and so she came home to spend the night. She probably got to bed well ahead of midnight, but Mark and I sat up quite late ─ I think that it was at least 1:30 a.m. before I got to bed.

In all that while since my late nap, I only managed to put back one can of beer ─ it had lost all appeal to me.

I am now unclear just when it was that I gave up trying to sleep overnight ─ my hangover was perhaps the worst I have had in about two years. But it may have been a little after 7:00 a.m.

Normally I rise and get to work on a post I am usually involved with at one of my six hosted websites, but not this time. I felt too destroyed. Everything about me seemed to be pounding.

To be perfectly honest, I was not even able to blog that day ─ I am making this token effort on a post for that day an entire day later.

I could do nothing ─ not even attempt some exercise.

All I accomplished was ensure that in the afternoon I sat out in the backyard in a deck- or lawn-chair for just over 40 minutes while clad in just a pair of cutoffs and facing into the Sun.

My wife Jack left toward mid-afternoon for Vancouver to go to work (she splits between Langley and Vancouver during the week). She was withdrawn from me, as she too often is. In fact, as she left after I had gone out to see her off, she just said, "See you."

She did not even deign to say that I could probably expect her back next Monday evening after she again puts in a day working in Langley.

I tried not to allow it to hurt too much ─ that can be difficult when I am already at such a low ebb due to something like my dreadful hangover.

I had lain down in the morning, using my working eldest stepson Tho's bed, but I was too rough to be able to certainly nap. My system was too damaged ─ my heartbeats and my nerves too accelerated from the abuse of the day before.

Yet after Jack finally left me home alone ─ both of my stepsons had gone to work in the morning, and Mark had taken off for the afternoon soon after the noon-hour ─ I did not seek a nap.

I think that I wanted to be so tired by the evening that I would be able to confidently get to bed reasonably early and sleep a good night, confronting a new day renewed.

After Mark was home from the bar in the evening, he was quickly unconscious once he had eaten and then sat in his favourite living room chair to watch the T.V. fare I was tuning in via our Android TV Box.

This is typically him for at least some while on any given evening ─ I took the photo early last Sunday evening:


When he began to revive toward 10:00 p.m., I knew that he would have gotten something of a 'second wind,' and I wanted none of his desire to keep sitting up watching shows.

So without a word, I turned off the Android TV Box and switched the T.V. over to a news station, and then I went upstairs to ready myself for bed.

How he spent the rest of the evening, I do not know. We only have basic cable television, so he would not have had too much variety to choose from if he did not wish to keep sitting through the same stories on the news channel.

I did not expect to have the bit of trouble I experienced in falling asleep, but when I did get there, it was quite good.

As I said, this is a token post being created on Saturday, so I am going to finish it now with this old journal entry of mine from 41 years ago when I was 27 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

I was renting in a private home located on Ninth Street [Google map], and two houses up from Third Avenue.
WEDNESDAY, April 27, 1977

I got up at just about 7:30 a.m.; I am stiff & sore.

I did my laundry, finding a penny on the crosswalk; I bought 1 comic. 

The day is going to be nice.

I checked out the books for sale in 3 different places, then went to the library and borrowed The Centennial Food Guide: A Century of Good Eating by Pierre and Janet Berton. 

[That book is not listed in Wikipedia's bibliography of Pierre Berton publications. I sure cannot say that I recall anything of the book, but evidently its full title was The Centennial Food Guide: A Century of Good Eating, Comprising an Anthology of Writings about Food and Drink Over the Past Hundred Years, Together with Divers Recipes, Helpful Suggestions, Curiosa and Illustrations Culled from Old Records, the Whole Being Seasoned with the Personal Prejudices and Enthusiasms of the Authors.]

For some reason, my U.I. cheque for $146 came today. I went downtown and cashed it, and tho I looked around, all I bought was [sic] 2 money orders ($5 & $20).

T-shirt weather again.

I typed up Terri a letter, which I'll mail tomorrow morning along with the $5 I owe St. Joseph's School for the pouch of Western Canada Express Lottery tickets, $20 to B.C. Wildlife Federation for the same collection plus a Provincial Lottery and Loto Canada tickets, and lastly, a $30 tithe. 

[Terri Martin was a U.S. pen-pal I had back then.]

Bed at 9:00 p.m.

Well, nearly anyway. Evil at 9:07 p.m., bed 9:10 p.m.
What a way to end a journal entry!

I used a laundromat for my laundry. I always had the impression that the laundry facilities in the basement where I was renting were off-limits to me.
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