According to my Apple Watch, I fell asleep at 10:30pm, woke up around midnight for 15 minutes (of which I have no memory), fell back asleep, then woke back up about 12:45am. I remember waking up the second time quite clearly. I was choking. No idea on what, but I was gasping for air and my throat was on fire. After drinking a bunch of milk and a few slices of toast, I went back to bed to watch TikToks until I fell asleep again. Jenny kept me company. For about 10 minutes. Then she was fast asleep. Lucky cat.

When I woke up again at around 6:15am, my room was bathed in a red glow.

Most places, this would be a horrible thing to wake up to. But I live in a valley in a state where wildfires are rampant and smoke collects. Since nobody was banging on my door, I just assumed it was smoke from a fire elsewhere in the state that was giving me a Red Alert vibe.

When I finally got out of bed at 6:55am to feed my cats, this is what I saw out my window...

There's no filter on that. It's straight out of my iPhone.

As you can see, there's no smoke in my immediate vicinity... it's actually collecting in the Columbia Basin to the East (the actual fires are about a two-hour drive North of me).

As usual, my thoughts are with the firefighters who are working to contain the fire... the people in danger of the fire... and, of course, the many animals trying to escape and survive the fire.

Surprisingly, fire season where I live has been fairly mild this year (knock wood).

Which seems a reason to celebrate.

Except we're not through fire season yet.

Getting older sucks.

But that's not to say that it can't be made to suck worse!

No offense to the AARP, but I'm not going to be clicking through on this story...

Fried potatoes are one of the few pleasures I have left. I'D RATHER DIE THAT NEVER BE ABLE TO EAT THEM AGAIN!

Tonight I was finally let out of Facebook prison. I guess 24 hours was all it took to be rehabilitated from stupid shit that should have never got me banned in the first place. But, hey, it's not my world... I just give up my privacy and time to play in it.

I did finally end up doing what most every person who regularly gets hit with the ban-hammer does on Facebook... create an alternate account.

Meet John Baron II...

Obviously I can't let my cats on Facebook without a disguise as well... meet Bubair and JennAir...

And now that Fake Jake is back, it's time to meet Faker Jake...

Yes, it's childish and juvenile... but so is stupid Facebook and their inconsistent and absurd policies for banning general statements out of context while ignoring direct threats to specific people.

Today I picked up my iPhone and went to slide it into my shirt pocket. What I didn't know is that an X-ACTO blade I had put on the same shelf where I set my iPhone had attached to the back. I got a nice slice on my finger to let me know though.

OR MAYBE MY iPHONE GOT THE COVID VACCINE AND THAT'S THE REASON THE X-ACTO BLADE ATTACHED TO IT?!?

I know that sounds insane, but it's no less crazy than people claiming they got "magnetized" after getting vaccinated.

It's currently 15 minutes until midnight. I have precious little time to get a blog entry in for the day... and nothing to blog about.

Except...

Just now ehen I was looking through my iPhone photos to see if I could remember something blogable that happened today, I saw this photo taken earlier this evening at 10:11pm...

What is this?

Where was I at 10:11pm?

This has to be in my house, but I'll be darned if I know which part of my house it is.

I actually walked around room to room, holding up my iPhone to see if I could figure it out. My best guess is that this is my upstairs bathroom and that rectangular hole in the upper-right is my skylight. But what would I be doing with my camera app running in the bathroom?

AM I FILMING PORN IN MY BATHROOM WHILE SLEEPWALKING NOW?

Wait... I am a sleepwalker?

Wait... I fell asleep at 10:11pm and didn't know it?

I suppose if money starts rolling in from an OnlyFans account (which I also would have had to set up while sleepwalking) then I'll know for sure.

Otherwise?

I'll be darn disappointed if I'm sleep-sexting my homemade sleepwalking porn to people for free.

I have found no way of writing the pronunciation of my name on Facebook.

The only option I get is their default, which is wrong. "DAY-vid" is fine. But my last name has TWO Ms in it. You don't pronounce it "SI-mer"... it's more like "SIM-mer." So I just turn the pronunciation off because it annoys me greatly...

I've always thought that my name was kinda a no-brainer to pronounce... "Summer" with an "I" instead of a "U" is close enough because people who are not me won't catch the missing "M" and I don't care if somebody is giving it a shot. But SO MANY TIMES I get "Summer" or "Zimmer" or "Sighmer" or "Simner" or "Simmey" and whatnot. Which, no big deal, because it's easy enough to say my name back to them... but to this day I don't know where those pronunciations come from. I can only guess that they have people in their life that are close and seeing what they know? In any event, Facebook isn't helping.

My name is from the Frisian word for "summer" and it's not generally all run together when I've heard it. It's got a subtle double-tap on the M in there. So that's how I've always pronounced it. Not sure about my family, but I don't really care because it's my name and I know the origin.

And how has your Monday been going?
   
ME: "This day has been truly awful. I sure hope that there’s some kind of disaster waiting for me at home that I have to deal with!"
   
UNIVERSE: "Um... how about a leak from a 12-pack of Coke in your refrigerator?"
   
ME: "HA! That’s the best you can do?"
   
UNIVERSE: "Remember how you deep-cleaned your entire refrigerator a month ago? How about the Coke leaks EVERYWHERE so you have to deep clean everything again?"
   
ME: "Pathetic. This is ME we’re talking about. You’ll have to try harder than that!"
   
UNIVERSE: "Hmmm... how about the Coke carton has gotten so soggy that when you pull it out the cans go bouncing everywhere?"
   
ME: "Yawn."
   
UNIVERSE: "Really? Okay... one of the cans falls onto the door shelf and causes it to break off."
   
ME: "It’s like you’re not even trying."
   
UNIVERSE: "The shelf falls on another shelf and causes it to break off. And these are the only two shelves that have glass jars and bottles on them."
   
ME: "Nice. Do they shatter and make a massive pile of condiments, soda, and glass shards all over my kitchen floor?"
   
UNIVERSE: "Of course! Oh... and the mess runs underneath all your appliances so you have to pull them out and clean under them as well."
   
ME: "Perfect. I love it. Keep going..."
   
UNIVERSE: "Jesus. Um... how about one of your cats happens to be in the kitchen when this goes down?"
   
ME: "Can it be Jenny? She’s easily frightened, so her being traumatized will mess up my head real good."
   
UNIVERSE: "You got it. Say... how about we have a shard of glass land by your foot? And it will be pointing up so it will slice into it real good when you try to catch the last few cans?"
   
ME: "Eh... would be better if I had a filthy kitchen and my tetanus shot wasn’t up to date... but why not? Yeah, throw that in!"
   
UNIVERSE: "We good with all that then?"
   
ME: "Maybe? Anything you could toss on top? The cherry on a sundae? Just a little ‘fuck you’ so I’ll know you really care?"
   
UNIVERSE: "When you go to start mopping it all up, the head of your mop falls apart."
   
ME: "YES! I’ll take it! Let’s go with that!"
   
UNIVERSE: "Alrighty then... your wish is my command."

I feel you, Peter...

Remember when, as a kid, Mondays meant that you just had to go back to school after having the weekend off and it felt like the end of the world? This week, as an adult, I didn't even get the weekend off. Brutal.

Cookware is one of those things that I never gave a thought about. I inherited some copper-bottom RevereWare along with some cheap Teflon crap that my mom had, and I used that for years and years. Sure Teflon can kill you now (or something bad, I dunno) but who wants to live forever? Eventually I started getting into cooking and made the decision in February of 2020 to get new cookware. It's nothing fancy, but it's much nicer than what I was using... a 12-piece hard anodized set... and has really held up well. It still looks new.

Despite it all, I still kept some of my mom's old crap.

Whether out of being overly-sentimental and wanting to cling to what was left of her, or the fact that I'm a hoarder who just can't throw crap away, I kept two RevereWare pots and a beat-up old skillet that was scraped and warped and flaking Teflon.

I still use them from time to time... mostly when I'm cooking tons of stuff and run out of clean pots and pans.

Until tonight when I finally tossed out that shitty, poisonous, old Teflon skillet.

There I was scrubbing it in the sink when a nice big piece of Teflon came off. That was the straw that broke the camel's back for me, and I decided enough was enough. I have cats who are depending on me, and I don't need to end up dead from a pan I didn't want to let go of.

Plus... one less thing to clean in the future.

Though I did finish cleaning it that one last time before tossing it in the garbage. Stand by your pan, and all that. It's provided 30-35 years of faithful service and earned the right to be retired with dignity.

Well, as dignified as being tossed in the trash can be, I guess.

On December 23rd, 2015 I was more tired than I had ever been.

My mother was declining ever faster into dementia and taking care of her was becoming a full-time job. A full-time job that I was trying to balance with my actual full-time job. I had bought a house where I could better take care of her, and was mired in month two of renovating it so that it was safe for her to live in. Christmas was coming in two days. The new mattresses I ordered were being delivered, but were running late. There were a million things that all needed doing and I was struggling to juggle everything.

Then I got a call from the nursing home that my grandmother didn't have much time left.

She had been slipping away little by little all week and I had increased my visits from twice a week... to daily... to multiple times a day once she stopped eating over the weekend. At that point there was nothing I could do except make sure that she wasn't suffering, so that's what I did. She meant the world to me, and I was grateful that I was in a position where I could look out for her. When I stopped by on my way to work that morning she was resting comfortably thanks to the morphine that was being regularly administered. I thought it was going to be a day just like the day before.

And it was.

Until it wasn't.

After I got the call I dropped everything and ran to the nursing home. There I met with the hospice nurse who said that the staff should have explained that she was in her last stages, yes, but it could be hours yet before she passed. She assured me that it was safe for me to go back to work and that she would call if grandma started to pass.

After work I checked in on mom. Then ran back to check on grandma. Then continued going back and forth. Once mom had settled in for the night, I turned on all the security cameras and decided I'd spend the night at the nursing home and keep tabs on mom remotely.

I was all alone.

As I had been all along.

Nobody would be helping me keep watch. Nobody ever helped. Nobody wanted to be there at the end. Not even me. Because watching somebody you love die is tough. But there was no way I'd be leaving her alone. She would never have left me alone.

So it was just me holding my grandmother's hand and talking to her as she lay slowly fading away.

Earlier that month a friend had known I was struggling and forwarded me an article from Esquire titled The Friend. It's about a guy who's young wife was dying from cancer and how a friend moved in for two years to help him take care of his wife and two daughters. It was a beautiful and touching story that was meant to bring me comfort. But all I could think about was how the author of the article had a friend willing to help but I had nobody.

Which begs the question... How can life have a happy ending when you're dead at the end of it?

It wasn't until years later that I happened across the article again while preparing for my mom's death that I managed to truly appreciate it. Even though I was all alone. Again. I read the article so many times that I practically had it memorized. That's how much it meant to me.

Needless to say, I was a little excited when I read that the article was being made into a movie...

And this past weekend I finally watched it because it was free with Amazon Prime.

And it was fantastic. Really did the original article justice, which was surprising to me for some reason. And the performances were better than you could even hope for.

Fast-forward to tonight.

Gwendoline Christie has a small part in Our Friend. It's wonderful. And it's haunted me ever since I saw the movie. So I pulled it up on Amazon Prime so I could rewatch her scenes.

I knew I'd be watching the movie again... but I also knew that I couldn't watch it again right away. It's just too exhausting. But here I am. Turns out it was impossible to just watch one small part of it without being compelled to watch the whole thing all over again.

So, yeah, if you've got Amazon Prime, it's worth a look.