Unit 42

I just finished watching, for the second time, the first episode of the first season of Unit 42. I watched the episode several months ago and enjoyed it immensely, but somehow got sidetracked, as I am wont to do, and didn’t keep it up. Tonight, I decided I wanted to continue the effort, but I had forgotten almost everything about the first episode. I tend to do that. All I need is 24 hours to utterly obliterate my memory of a television show or a movie. It’s a bad, ugly, miserable flaw. At any rate, I opted to renew my experience with the program. Again, I enjoyed it immensely. It’s not what I’d call high-end television, but it’s a solid French-language police drama with plenty of action and intrigue. Nothing that requires much thought, just a program that requires some attention and an appreciation of plot.

So….I’m just taking a break before I launch into episode number 2. And I will. My only concern is that, after two glasses of wine, I might not recall episode 2 tomorrow, which will require me to watch it again. This could go on for weeks. But it won’t. Because I will watch the entire episode and will plan (and execute the plan) to watch subsequent episodes in a timely fashion.


Tonight is Saturday. Many people are out with friends or family, kicking back and enjoying the weekend. But not me. Instead, I’m at home, watching a French-language television program while my wife is watching who knows what (or reading who knows what) in her nest retreat. Sometimes, I think we live in different epochs. I know I do.


A load of clothes has finished washing AND drying. As I was putting away the clothes, it occurred to me that I haven’t communicated directly with my blood and non-blood nieces and nephews of late. I don’t know why that entered my mind, but it did. I need to make a point of letting those folks know I think about them often. I don’t want to impinge on their lives, but I do want them to know the geezer uncle thinks about them frequently. How does one do that without seeming like a geezer uncle? Especially a distant, not-awfully-close uncle? I don’t know. I’m asking for a friend.


Last night, I had a bizarre dream. I won’t bore you with it; I told my wife about it and she found it strange and inexplicable. The upshot of the dream is that I was lost in a parking lot and I wasn’t sure where I’d gone when I left my car. Except I knew I had to be somewhere in short order to deliver a speech on behalf of (?) my church’s minister. I realized, in the dream, I might be dreaming. That was a strange element of the experience.


Sadness envelopes me like a damn hot, uncomfortable blanket. I don’t know why. I loathe this feeling of isolation and anguish. It’s not a normal Saturday night feeling. Jesus, I think I need to down an ounce or three of Black Jack Tennessee whiskey; that should put me back right with the world. But first, I have to watch another episode of Unit 42. And maybe it will dissuade me from swilling Black Jack.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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