Sunday, November 25, 2018

Shake the Ground

As I write this the ground and this building I live in is shaking. The garage opposite my window across the back lane is getting demolished as I write, with the aid of an excavator and a dump truck. And the fact that I am home at 1000h on a Tuesday to witness this is also not a fluke; as it "happens" the boss wasn't in and there wasn't anything assigned to do, nor any tasks outstanding. I wasn't the only one in these circumstances, and I drove my co-worker home as well. The two installers at work were also running out of things to do and were on the brink of heading home too.

Back to the excavator for a moment, and the articulating boom with the bucket and thumb on the end. Have I not mentioned before that the perps like to arrange boom trucks to transit, and more often, work with extended booms in my proximity with inordinate frequency? Many times I think, but this time it is only 20' away and shaking the place. And too, the demolition of buildings seems to be big deal, with the inevitable conclusion of the debris going to the landfill. Construction of buildings is also of perp interest too for that matter, though it of course takes longer.

Yoga last night, and a full house of some 18 other yogis. I don't know why the woman behind me had to park her mat 6" away when there was plenty of space elsewhere in the room, but hey, this is "normal". The E. Indian male shirtless freak wasn't there, and hence none of that purposeful gliding in at the last second to put his mat beside mine, like he did twice in succession.

The yogic freak show last night seemed to be about tattoos; at least two full arm jobs on women, and the female instructor was also full measure in that department. (I can barely look at her). There were at least three more women with lesser arm tattoos, the scripted writing going up the arm for crissakes. The instructor said next week's class will be her last, so it is either that the next instructor and her unsightly tattoos are going to be more prominent or much less. We shall see.

Another yoga instructor feature the perps like to manipulate is the manner of the instructor's tone of speech; is the instruction delivered as more of a suggestion/request, or as an insistent command. This seems to be a big deal for the perps, as one instructor who had much more of an authoritative command type delivery only lasted one session about three years ago. Go figure.

The loathesome game of huggies in the supermarket, but this time it was my turn. After work I went SOF and a woman viticulturist I know was there and greeted me with a hug. We chatted only briefly, and as her boyfiend was there. I met her at the harvest party two weeks ago, and again, didn't get much interaction time before we were interupted. I had spoken to her at length last year, on two occasions. It would seem the perps are up to their games of limiting contact time with known associates. She is one of the few people I find conversational and interesting and we never failed to chat at length whenever we have crossed paths in vineyard jobs in the last three years.

To the big city of Kelowna today, to get my IV iron transfusion, as the Good Doctor determined I was low and she also had done prior diligence in determining that I don't absorb iron. I was hoping to meet her and get some idea of how to turn this into a more quantifiable and consistent treatment regimen, rather than me phoning for my "annual" iron check up. And too, the Good Doctor wasn't very consistent this year, as I had to remind her that a ferritin test was inadequate, and she had to re-test me for other iron parameters. As to what they all are and their relative levels I don't know, nor am I any the wiser as to how the results were interpreted. I had to remind her last year of the same thing. So yes, the Good Doctor is losing her status IMHO, though she deserves full credit for disposition for action.

Curiously, I didn't get to see the Good Doctor this time, and only the recently hired nurse administered the IV feed. And the price went up $100 from last year, so I felt a little miffed that I didn't get to articulate my need to get this whole deal down to a more predictable schedule. The last twice I had the iron IV, the office staff babes popped by to check up on me, presumably in place of the doctor, as the process takes over an hour. The nurse did check up on me, but wasn't nearly as attractive though.

I went early to the big city to the tool supply store N of town and got a 1/8" round over router bit after three weeks of promises from the boss man as it is holding up completion of our chair rail installation at the hospital construction site. I was just plain fed up in other words, as he had already travelled to Kelowna twice in the last two weeks and failed to get the router bit as promised.

I got back to the hospital construction site at 1230h, and lo, if someone from the crew, who (unexpectedly) took a day off with the boss man in Kelowna last week, didn't also "happen" to be getting the same router bit as stated by the boss man. No good deed goes unpunished, sabotaged, compromised, duplicated or otherwise interfered with. As it "happened", the boss texted the co-worker in time and he did not get the router bit, and loaded up on purchasing a large number of tools for his own use. A curious "coincidence" I find, given the perps interest in sending others I am working with to the same stores, (this time a hours' drive away) and of course, engaging in financial transactions (for similar items, e.g. tools). Said co-worker was there in the big city last week, and didn't get any tools then, and had a day off two days beforehand. All too odd IMHO. And if I have a tool fetish, one can be sure the perps have long arranged this for whatever reasons they have in this.

And what is with the perps arranging finger cuts of late? I have had three in the last week, and the last most was most odd as I did not run my finger into anything sharp. Yesterday it was an obvious jerkaround; I had used a chisel while kneeling on the floor, and then placed it 12" from where I was using my R hand, and lo, if my L hand didn't inexplicably move for no purpose and get run into the chisel. I was absolutely pissed, as it was a blatant mind fuck stunt. And it "happened" at the same location of last week where the aforementioned curious cause finger cut erupted. The perps just love to arrange blood "samples" as I call them, usually arranging blood to drop onto the floor or nearby objects.

Another imperative of the perp assholes is to slow things up, and bloodletting with arranged finger cuts also serves that purpose. On both occasions, I was in the groove, efficiently attending to something that I know how to do well, and then the assholes struck with a finger cut to then break up the continuity and sense of purpose. Meaning that I had to go to the office and clean it up, and put on a band-aid. Like what the fuck for?

Other continuity disruptions this week were when guys came by with innocuous reasons, as in lame questions, when I was in the groove and getting on with end banding. I was using the router and the new bit to get the plastic imitation wood grain pieces made up that go on the exposed ends of the MDF chair rails, finally attending to this pointless (IMHO) imposed delay that the boss man invoked in spite of his avowed interest in finishing this particular job. My regular co-worker for the chair rails, the passive-aggressive Russian emigre mentioned in past posts, also came by to run his hand over the routed pieces I had made up. Funny that, with the perps longstanding interest in cutting tools, from knives onward, and he shows up, when he was busy on another assignment that kept him fully occupied. Even more curious was that he later came by to sweep up the plastic chips that had spewed from the routers over the prior two hours I was in the cutting room. It has been most unlike him to do any sweeping or cleaning, especially if it was for me.

Anti-metal music here, aka bluegrass-like; I won't vouch for the lyrics, but to hear good music and see such accomplished performers having so much fun is too hard to resist giving this a link. David Rawlings Machine as they like to call themselves; Hot Corn, Cold Corn needs some lyrical translation for this northerner, but I play it most nights of late.

Enough for a post for the week I think, even if the multitude of workplace gangstalkers is so predictable in "arriving" when I turn corners or enter or exit the building. Also, elevator egress (of me, and my gangstalkers) are a big deal for the perps, something that they taught me early when all this insane abuse rained (or reigned) down 04-2002 and hasn't let up. Suddenly, all manner of folks just plain "forgot" normal elevator etiquette of letting the passengers out before entering and started piling in to prevent my egress and/or to bump into me on purpose.

In support of this activity, they even pulled an obvious teleportation job a few months ago at this work site, mentioned in a posting at the time, where the guy (supposed tradesman) gets out on one floor and then "somehow" shows up on the next higher floor getting on, with no conventional discernible means or available time to pull this off. That he was wearing a backpack and had it pushed into me (due to the small elevator and high passenger load) added to his perp cred. The perps like to arrange backpacks to back into me, the usual ploy being that the wearer feigns obliviousness of their extended depth. Another past common location for this stunt is public transportation, aided by the buses being peculiarly busy for that time of day and direction.

Sunday, November 18, 2018

Hospital Construction Job

This millwork installation laboring gig started Aug. 15 this year, and the boss man tells me that it will take another 4 weeks. I am OK with that as it pays a whole lot better than vineyard work. But the general contractor has this intense drive to not only keep up appearances of completion by Dec. 15, but goes to ludicrous lengths to move the trades' supplies and distributed installation materiel around, as if this was some kind of broad hint. The latest is that all trades materiel, tool boxes, and temporary offices must be off the site by Nov. 24. This is patently absurd given the level of progress, and the best one can hope for is that they allow us to operate from the adjacent parkade, unheated as it is. This too is a problem, as some trades require their materials to be at room temperature so glues will properly set. And the general contractor's habit of piling one trade on top of another and creating logistical inefficiencies hasn't gone unnoticed either. Nor their seeming indifference to permitting ready egress to the building. For example, three level one (ground) accesses (all of them) were blocked by trade work today, and we had to enter and exit via level 2, via the parkade. This wouldn't be permitted under the safety regulations in the first place, and it just seems so utterly absurd they they don't seem to know which access is blocked when. Everyone 's patience is stretched to say the least, and I am a relative latecomer so I am nowhere near as burnt out as most.

Today we discover, that someone came in yesterday on a statutory holiday and applied caulking to the chair rails we had been installing these past five weeks.Owing to the premature arrival of the office furniture we have been hampered in making progress in getting the chair rails done earlier. We are nearly done the chair rail installation today and were getting geared up to do caulking, and now find someone did a totally shit job, first by using the wrong caulking type. They used a clear type, which if ill applied (usually the case) actually magnifies the gaps and makes them look worse. Naturally the general contractor never told my boss, or the wall covering boss, that this was in the works, and proceeded unilaterally with this shit job all in the name of expediting their notion of "completion". As it "happened" even the supervisor level general contractor personnel were remarking on the awful caulking job as I was exiting a room.

Last week the hospital beds arrived, and I suppose this is a big deal as they look very high tech with lots of features etc. And of course each one is very expensive, so I imagine there was a tight inventory count as well. Today the TV screens arrived, a special "health care" version that doesn't allow germs on the inside. Don't ask me how much those each cost.

Anyhow, I find it most curious as to how all this is going to go down with the client in the end, and how much of it the general contractor is going to wear.

And so today, as we were finishing up on chair rail installation on the final level, we find that there was a stash of our chair rail stock on another floor. As it "happened" last week, in the middle of moving all this stock to the next floor, the painter "happened" to arrive in the middle of this job and then blocked the door and effectively prevented us from getting all of it moved. Today, while collecting our stock I discover we had extra on the floor below in this same room. Some fucking idiot had stashed about 15 3' boards, each 8" wide on a new patient bed for crissakes when they had been on the floor and perfectly out of everyone's (other trades) way. Who would do something so fucking stupid? Not only that, but when I entered this room, this male painter was sitting on the bed (3' high off the floor) beside these chair rail boards and doing absolutely squat, except staring out the window and swinging his legs. I made about five trips to retrieve the chair rail stock that was on the floor in this room and moved it to the elevator lobby in advance of taking it downstairs to a central location, but this painter kept on sitting on the patient bed all the while. Eventually (over a time span of 15 minutes) I had to move the chair rail boards that were beside him, and did the obligatory apologies and "excuse me's" etc., and removed them. Like WTF; this painter (an extreme red flag as he may have fresh paint on his clothes) sits on a new patient bed (which never should be done by any tradesman whatsoever as these things had only been delivered last week) and then sits there for 15 minutes while I retrieve this chair rail stock (8" wide boards) from the room, and then the shorter boards from the bed beside him (where they never, ever, should of been as they were in an innocuous location on the floor nearby only two days ago). And apart from him verbally responding to my apologia, he doesn't get off the bed, and just sits there facing the window, explaining nothing. It was IMHO, an utterly bizarre Fellini film-like perverse behavioral/context juxtaposition if there ever was one, just in a construction context. Go figure.

Even now, some five hours later as I write this, I cannot believe that someone would be posted (stalking essentially) in such idiotic circumstances, with such an idiotic set of precursory actions. That is, why would anyone put all these chair rail boards on the bed in the first place when it was clear that all the painters had to do was put a drop cloth on them when the boards were on the floor in an innocuous location. Which is in fact what the painters initially did last week. And then the prior "bad timing" of having the painters arrive and block egress to the room (twice in two days) when we wanted to remove all the chair rail boards in the first place. And then the subsequent "memory failure" of me and my co-worker (who has an excellent memory) in "forgetting" these chair rail boards were in this patient room when we had moved all the long boards upstairs immediately beforehand. In fact, earlier today, I remarked to my co-worker as to where did all the shorter chair rail boards go as we had plenty on the floor below. All I got from him was some vague blather that they all got used up (as he was doing the retrieving for cutting them to length). Talk about an orchestrated shit show, and this took place in consecutive increments over five days. It was yet another happen-chance and coincidence confluence with a finale of utterly bizarre behavior (the painter sitting there on a new patient bed and doing nothing but looking out the window). And of course this character never explained one bit as to what he was doing during all of this. I don't get treated to these Fellini film moments very often these days, but this was one for the ages.

[And given the extensive number of typos, not to mention countless screaming at the assholes for this wholesale fine motor skill assault, with added sneezes at a much greater than usual frequency, while composing the above "Fellini" bizarre-ness, and the constant edit box pop-ups for no seeming reason, it just seems that the Psychopaths have an inordinate interest in having me recount their utter inanity, scripted to the enth degree no doubt].

And to get it back to "normal' for the Psychopathic perps; just leave me the fuck alone, I have suffered enough. A lifetime of ADD and all the cognitive difficulties is more than enough, never mind the callous First Feral Family assholes all the while, and in on this insane travesty with additional imposed adversity. Then the Psychopathic berserk/overt abuse-athon began in 04-2002 and it hasn't let up since. I will take watching a Fellini film any day, rather than being a scripted stooge for an insane Psychopathic Confederate agenda.

Does the intense stalking at the construction site ever end? Now with less trades dudes around, it seems the stalking duties are falling on fewer, who re-double their efforts to make up for less dude flux. And the number of dude-events that "happen" to pop around the corner just as I am making the same corner has increased considerably. And too, the ones who follow me up and down the stairs, along with the tag team play, where one takes off another comes along to replace him. Ditto for the elevator lobby. I also get plenty of help at doors, which I am grateful for as I am usually packing a dolly with 6-9 8' MDF boards, which is a heavy load.

Another continuing stalker plague are the group of E. Indians who are responsible for cleaning. And they have developed a new tactic to deal with me when I am transiting two floors with relative frequency. I was working on level 6, and had to get material on level 1, and back and forth a number of times. And what do they do? Why, they split apart with  about 3-4 each on level 6 where I was working, and then on level 1 just outside our trades office. Well done. The Portable Plague of Gangstalkers, this time with an ethnic focus.

And still the pit lamping on me from headlights in the morning when I get out of my vehicle at 0630h. Same deal as before; just leave me the fuck alone, I have had enough.

Enough bullshit for a week, and onto to getting this one posted.

Monday, November 12, 2018

Harvest Party

 A Monday off work due to the national holiday yesterday, Rememberance Day. Though in fact, I did work yesterday on the construction site. Nice that there were so few trades around as I could get things done. My regular co-worker was with me for part of the day, but as we ran out of glue to finish the job, only part of it could get completed for the afternoon. Said co-worker is the one who threw a passive-aggressive hissy fit three weeks ago over a big nothing, another one of those "what was that about" experiences that have come on since all this abuse and harassment came down in 04-2002. Said co-worker is a little more friendly and talkative since then, and a two week work separation hiatus might of helped. The day after his ridiculous hissy fit he was re-assigned, hardly a coincidence, though I never told anyone anything and he said he wouldn't either. He has mellowed a little, and isn't so strange as he was before, since I began working with him in 09-2018. A Russian emigre, and true to form, cannot be figured out. Anyhow, we get a lot done together, and that suits each of us just fine as we are both accomplishment minded and like to do things efficiently.

And a hiatus from yoga again, due to today's holiday, and the perps just love to break up regular occurences, no matter the frequency; once per week to once per day etc. No good habit or regular practice goes undisrupted (or unsabotaged). Last week it was a Monday night show, so it will be three weeks since I get back to class unless I somehow join a class this week, a notion that curiously escapes me when these Monday night yoga disruptions come on.

The last class was a repeat of classes some six weeks ago, when the very dark skinned E. Indian arrives in class at the last minute and sits beside me at a spot that was left open. How this particular entrance timing and mat location selection "happens" so many times for this one particular individual cannot be a coincidence. Not only was a prime mat location left open for him while some 15 other yogis filed in beforehand in th preceding 15 minutes, but it the whole thing tells me that everyone else was arriving according to a schedule and in accordance to a seating plan. In seating himself beside me, this E. Indian  male also "happened" to place himself in front of the mirror reflection of this pretty blonde girl I had been checking out for the prior 15 minutes. So, instead of her gorgeous visage in the mirror, I get the fugly E. Indian male, a regular in terms of stalking next to to me. (Another case of bait and switch; babe, and then the fugly dude arrives later in her place). And again liek the last time, the poor fellow got too hot and had to remove his shirt for crissakes. I think they should ban this practice and have everyone keep their shirts on in yoga class. I suppose this whole deal is about exposing me to a whole lot of dark skin from 4' away, something I wouldn't ordinarily be exposed to for any length.

And the E. Indians continue to plague me at the construction site. Anytime I change a floor that I am working on, or re-assigned to a new task, they "happen" to arrive or else already be in place, jabbering away. I am down for three of these events this week, normally at least two more per week. In a stunt of high absurdity, they even parked themselves on ladders immediately outside the elevator doors that I was to exit from. The elevator operator had to ask them to pack it up. Again, more ladder games, this time from a high-prominence stalking ethnic subpopulation.

A good show at The Dream Cafe last week, and although I did not get any protracted staring from the performers, I got a lot of direct looks from one of the threesome. At one point he said, "I truly believe that good will prevail in this world..." and then shot a look at me, some 40' away against the back wall and in the dark. Like WTF: don't look at me for any kind of affirmation on that; all I know is sustained and relentless abuse as a mind controlled subject, and knowing my family was in on it from the get-go and are therefore are a bunch of sick-assed perfidious quislings who should be given the usual war time justice for such ilk.

My vineyard employer had a harvest party this Thursday; "no kids" said the invitational text, and lo, there were at least four of them parading by me with the usual (perp patented) "look-away" countenance. As to why I get kiddie-stalked all the time I have no idea, but I consider it the apogee of mental depravity, to send or bring one's children into stalk a lifetime victim of senseless and relentless abuse. For those parents who send their children on these missions, go fuck yourselves.

Said harvest party was about three hours and I met up with some old faces, my foreman, the owners (employers) and a few others. I met some new winemakers and industry folks, and enjoyed the company. An interesting looking woman I hadn't seen before was across the room, and eventually when she "happened" to look my direction from 15' away, she had this disparaging and nasty look. OK, I get it; you got my attention and then made sure I was roundly disappointed. I know this routine, and don't consider it too different than the occasions at the hair stylist school where I get my hair cut, when a personable and talkative stylist first cuts my hair. Some six weeks later on my return visit the same stylist won't even look at me, and makes a big point of been seen but not being in any way friendly. Same old thing; bait and change, usually for the worse.

And I get the sense that my perceptions of many of the stalking and stunts that so well known to me over these past 16.5 years of this berserk and overt abuse are getting remotely dithered by the perps. That is to say, my identification (or cognition) of the fraught and torturous reality that I have been kept in, (the stunts and incidents and their relationship to past patterns), and which is immediately recognizable and familiar to me, is now being cognitively interfered with. For example, the above mentioned kiddie stalking only "occurred" to me some hours after the event when normally I would of identified it right then and there. Which is to say, the perps have begun a new phase of deleting my knowledge of their abusive methods as they occur. Not a good sign, and likely has more ominous ramifications. Or put another way, the assholes won't allow me to identify their relentless and consitent stunts and supporting routines as they occur.

Anyhow, I should get this one posted for the week so I don't get backed up.

Sunday, November 04, 2018

Decision Making Stalking

Just what is it about making a decision that so interests these assholes who have been overtly hounding my ass for the last 16+ years? The same crew that runs and ruins my existence (not called a life any more), down to infinitesmal levels of detail, also needs to rag my butt whenever I make a decision. And of course, they like it too when I am forced to revoke a decision, modify it, or hit the wall and cannot make one in the face of an confluence of confliction eruption.

Nowhere is this more evident than when I go out in the stores and go shopping as I did today, a Sunday off. The stalkers arrive ahead of me at the store aisle location where I am interested in something, (and usually I cannot find it at first, delaying the decision making episode of course), then one stalker screws off and another one comes by, and if I feel I am getting too crushed by the procession and/or clusterfuck of these Fuckwits, I abandon the exercise and head out to the cashier. Another variation is to present unexpected alternatives, say (today), glass cleaning wipes instead of the glass cleaning spray foam that I was looking for, and then have me "decide" if the new-to-me alternative is better. (I bought both, never trusting new items that I "happen" to find). Another momentary decison reflection moment is when they jack with the price and I process this and then re-decide. This constant hounding of me today in the Cambodian Tire store (not its real name) is plain fucking insane. I rarely go to this larger hardware and home ware store as I get constantly skunked, (that is, don't find what I am looking for) and stalked too, but they do have automotive things that the alternative store doesn't have.

And why would some endlessly funded deep black (and relentlessly malevolent and psychopathic) organization hound my ass over when I make a decision? My father could never seem to make a decision, and in viewing and suffering from his traits when in his care, I resolved never to be such an ditz, and as far as I know, I am not when it comes to this activity. Which begs the larger question, just what are the perps after in this context? Could it be that a decison is a branch point in the Many Worlds Quantum Mechanics Interpretation (MWI -Gizmodo's version)  and that the assholes are attempting to determine this theoretical event in actuality and in real time? Add in the gangstalkers, whom may fulfil the role of "vibe cohorts", a la this quote from a neuroscientist;

"The more we study engagement, we see time and again that just being next to certain people actually aligns your brain with them..."

and maybe the perps are onto some kind of many worlds quantum detection methodology in real time. Not that I give a rat's ass about it, all I want to be is left the fuck alone. And not forgetting that this same crew does teleportation and telekinesis as a normal everyday practice in the course of delivering their abuse as I have come to know it. Not only are they very far ahead of human capabilities, (aided by supressing scientific research) but they have a research agenda beyond that even. One can research the Many Worlds Interpretation for hours online, but for me, it doesn't do much, as I just don't have the cognitive capability to take it all in and process it. It is interesting though that the perps had me "discover" Hugh Everett and his MWI a couple of years ago, something that I would not be ordinarily interested in.

Then added to the above is another litany of insane interest by the perps, which is the act of measuring something. Or, even estimating, guessitmating, and all variations of certainty that can occur in the process. This too has Many Worlds Interpretation implications, with the theoretical notion that the world, or one's perception of it, splits when one takes a measurement. Or, alternatively in the Copenhagen quantum mechanics interpretation, there is a wave function collapse, and the observer is part of the quantum system. Well I suppose, if one can somehow eliminate the observer's cognitive awareness at the time of measurement, just maybe something else can be discovered. Whatever, just leave me the fuck alone. I don't operate at these rareified levels of theoretic debate and have no interest in doing so. Again, one can go for weeks in chasing down all the theoretical ramifications of this, but leave me out of it.

And it is unlikely to be happenchance that the perps have me in a current job where I have made many measurements often over the past three months of this construction gig. (I am installing chair railing at major hospital construction site). And if they have been covertly following me all these years (as it seems) until they went berserk/overt on me in 04-2002, I have had plenty of prior measuring experience. I worked in forest inventory for many summers, and took tree measurements for diameter and heights often, for both one time samples (temporary plots) and also permanent sample plots where one returns to a site with number tagged trees and remeasures the same identical ones every 5 or 10 years or so. That is, differing crews in differing measurement field project initiatives return to gather this data for determining tree growth statistics so they may be grouped and extrapolated into growth functions to predict future forest growth, and thereby support forest harvesting decisions.

Another curiousity, likely related though I don't know how, is the perps' interest in me when percieving time. Today is when the daylight savings time is converted back to standard time, and the perps have demonstrated a long interest in that since they went into overt harassment mode. This year, my difficult-to-adjust Timex digital sports watch "somehow" got snagged and thereby changed a week ago to exactly one hour earlier, and thereby saving me the extreme hassle of attempting to change it myself. Even the watch repair guys had a tough time changing it in the spring owing to sticky or otherwise reluctant change buttons. And yes, I have the manual for the watch, but it defies the prescribed instructions. On at least half the occasions where I had to change the time on my watch, I had to take it in to a jeweller and have them change the time for me. An astonishing coincidence by any means, and with at least three digital watches in the last 16 years, all the more so. (Not counting the two analog watches that "failed", both with steel mesh bands, that "happened" when the assholes first mugged me with this psychopathic outrage in 04-2002). Add the perception of time to the above mentioned decision making and measuring interest the perps have and see if you can develop a coherent thesis on what they are after.

Yesterday, in an infuriating mind-fuck bout of decision over-ride, I went grape harvesting with my fickle friend at his boss' site. I hadn't been in a vineyard since mid-August when I my employment was terminated as they had no further work. Going by last year, my former employer would of phoned me up at least three times and asked for some spot help for grape harvesting. Yesterday, it ended up that the rain came on about 1100h, and we picked until 1700h as there was a transfer truck with a fork lift waiting for all the harvested grapes. Normally they shut down harvest operations when it rains, but not this time. Which of course, meant that I wasn't fully prepared for picking in the rain as they always shut the harvest down, and I expected that they would this time too. But the end of it, I was cold and wet, a situation that I always am prepared for by bringing extra clothing, but "somehow" I got faked out this time. Well done assholes.

I had wanted to take yesterday, a Saturday, off to to go to the walk-in doctor clinic and get my four Rx renewed. It was my plan, or decision if you will, to do so for at least the prior 6 days, and when my fickle friend phoned Friday night to ask if I was available for picking the next day, I immediately said "yes". As to why, I have no idea, as I had other plans for my Saturday. These kind of mindless cannot-say-no "decisions" have been "happening" more of late, and I am getting increasingly pissed off at this owing to the downstream inconveniences.

And of course, interuptions in my Rx intake have been long part of the perp's games, and having them run out, even for a day or two, suits their agenda perfectly. It just pisses me off intensely that I cannot be allowed to consistently apply a remedy to fix, or attend, to a medical problem that they brought on in the first place. Or in the least, a problem that they are managing. Just more grist for the nonconsensual research agenda, these Rx intake variations, as they would see it. And too, it would be in keeping with another of their long standing sabotage objectives that "no good deed go unpunished", or alternatively, that "no effective habit/remedy go unsabotaged", a theme that has come up in many prior postings.

Enough said for now, and onto posting this.