You’re out. Goodbye. You will NEVER get another dollar from me. I bought it, it’s mine. Fuck you. :-*
Nintendo updated its Nintendo Account Agreement with a severe warning against “unauthorized use”, in a bid to prevent emulation and piracy.
The US update is as follows: “Without limitation, you agree that you may not (a) publish, copy, modify, reverse engineer, lease, rent, de-compile, disassemble, distribute, offer for sale, or create derivative works of any portion of the Nintendo Account Services; (b) bypass, modify, decrypt, defeat, tamper with, or otherwise circumvent any of the functions or protections of the Nintendo Account Services, including through the use of any hardware or software that would cause the Nintendo Account Services to operate other than in accordance with its documentation and intended use; (c) obtain, install or use any unauthorized copies of Nintendo Account Services; or (d) exploit the Nintendo Account Services in any manner other than to use them in accordance with the applicable documentation and intended use, in each case, without Nintendo’s written consent or express authorization, or unless otherwise expressly permitted by applicable law. You acknowledge that if you fail to comply with the foregoing restrictions Nintendo may render the Nintendo Account Services and/or the applicable Nintendo device permanently unusable in whole or in part.”
The “NEVER AGAIN” list: Google. Netflix. Amazon. Meta. Nintendo.
Chris Titus wrote an article (and did a video!) about cleaning Arch Linux. I wanted to add a bit more that I find helpful – something that he didn’t cover: Uninstalling UNUSED dependencies!
He covered cleaning the pacman cache, pruning timeshifts, checking usage and several other things, but not removing orphaned dependencies. Here’s a great little one liner to do just that:
sudo pacman -Rsn $(pacman -Qdtq)
A quick explanation of what you’re doing:
The inner $(pacman -Qdtq) fetches the list of orphaned dependencies that were explicitly installed but are no longer required, setting the result of the output to a variable passed to the outer pacman -Rsn command.
-Q: Query
-d: Filter packages installed as dependencies
-t: Filter un-required packages not (optionally) required by any other package
-q: format results in a less verbose manner for passing to another command
The outer pacman -Rsn
-R: Remove a package.
-s: Recursively remove dependencies no longer needed by any other installed package.
-n: Avoid keeping backup copies of the configuration files, making the removal more thorough.
As always, don’t just blindly run commands from the internet. Go validate what you just read on the Arch Wiki. I hope this helps! 🙂
She didn’t ring the bell; she just stood there at the edge of the porch, her gaze meeting mine through the glass of the living room window. The silence seemed deliberate, a prelude to the inevitable. Death was shorter than I imagined, but with a kind, gentle smile. She carried with her a small black leather bag of endings come too soon. He didn’t even acknowledge her as she knelt near him, her presence jarring, an unwelcome intrusion into the familiar warmth of our living room – a space he long made our home. Grief tightened its grip on my heart as I realized the immediacy of what loomed.
We had spent his final day doing everything he wanted. 5:00 am would have otherwise seen me irritated had it not been for his cheerful chirps and beautiful purring face. Breakfast was a buffet of tuna, salmon, and chicken breast. Things normally given as special treats were heaped into small mounds. We trekked outdoors, side by side, through lands of previously forbidden exploration. It hadn’t struck me then, but this was our final sunrise. Springtime, though cold and crisp, provided many interesting things to investigate. By the afternoon, he was tired and ready for cuddles. The last photo in my camera roll is of him, snuggled down warmly into my lap.
It was the last gift that I could give him, to hold him in my arms as he crossed while I could not. I couldn’t bear the thought of him dying in any other way. He fought against the drugs, he fought to stay there in my arms. I felt his last breath, the last beat of his little heart, as he left this place. I kissed his forehead and whispered, “I love you, forever. I release you, Nico. Don’t linger, please. Go now.” Placing his lifeless body into the basket was a bizarre experience, a symbolic echo of a deeper loss not yet understood. It felt akin to watching someone eviscerate their own heart, tending to the raw, exposed chambers with a meticulous care, before placing the offering into a neat basket before them – a final, unbearable act of surrender. It still feels like I’m watching in third person, as if living a bad dream.
These past nights have all bled together, a wash of tears and fragmented dreams. Even sleep offers no lasting comfort. As the edges of the dream begin to fray, I awake to reality – a choked sob escapes before I can catch it. “Please, not yet.” Let me fall back asleep before… it’s as if the recording has skipped and something was missed. I’m suddenly aware of the wetness against my cheek – a pillow soaked with tears.
I’m thrust into the new day without him. A new life that began with his death, a life now haunted by his absence. A life where what day it is carries no consequence. I’ll wallow here for however long, unkempt, unshowered, and inconsolable. But a new anxiety rises, a silent demand to return, to feign normalcy. The fear of losing everything – my job, my stability – pressed down, amplified by the unspoken judgment: ‘It was just a cat.’ How do I now answer ‘How are you?’ How do I explain grief layered upon exhaustion and the lingering pain of letting go when I desperately wanted to hold on? How do I confront this new dread of facing their pity, their judgement? This is a place I never wanted to reach, but now can not escape.
Yes, I’m crying for my cat. What being ever sensed my feelings and offered comfort without the need for words? What person ever showed me so much unconditional love?
What was once home – a space filled with his warmth, woven into every activity and corner of the house – is now just an empty shell of walls. He was my home. His space, his presence, hasn’t disappeared. It lingers. It’s now a void, a stillness ringing with what was.
A sense of guilt washes over me, again. I watch as you sleep, restlessly. Your ears and whiskers twitch as you dream, someplace beyond this cruel reality I’m trapped within. I feel foolish. I’ve secretly held my hopes high, but the truth of things comes ever more steadily into focus, crushing the dream I’ve managed cling to. Why must it be this way? Why does hope erode in such jagged and agonizing contortions?
I’ve asked so much of you that I feel ashamed of how selfish I’ve been; I can’t bring myself to let you go. While all this time, you’ve fought so hard to hold on for me. You’ve weathered my constant toil, the pills, the feedings. My chest heaves as hot blood rushes to my face and tears streak down my cheeks, falling silently into the abyss. I hold my breath to silence a sob.
I’ve wondered if perhaps this final time together is a gift.Taking care of you; forcing you to eat felt both wrong and right. I was your will when you had none. But now I question whether I’ve done the correct thing. Am I prolonging your suffering?
You’re still MY Nico. But our pain has changed us both. You still seek my comfort, but it’s more slowly, cautiously, as if the wrong move will hurt. I breathe shallowly, careful not to disturb your uneasy cuddles atop me. Watching every twitch of your body in anticipation that I’ve moved too much.
I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you to leave me here, alone. I want to come too. When you last close your eyes, let me cross with you. I know I cannot.
Let me carry you across the divide. Let me take your pain.
I’m scared. I sit here swallowing my own heart. I’ve tried to tread every step with a planned and careful thoughtfulness, to base every agonizing decision out of love, and attempt to anticipate the outcome. The possibilities and uncertainty are tearing me to pieces.
The what-ifs are relentless and excruciating. Decision fatigue already has me worn thin. That I can’t know the future, that it can’t be predicted or guaranteed, is emotionally draining. It feels so wrong, but the anticipatory grief and pain of potential loss, the thought of possibly not saying goodbye… or having to – has me frozen in fear.
So, here I wait, stuck, terrified, in a situation that might truly be unfixable. I’m trying to focus on providing comfort and love, to appreciate all of the small things, and to cherish whatever time is left. These moments are now treasures, held tight against a despair I cannot silence – a rending that comes not from absence, but from the agonizing glimpse of what is to be lost.
Hot tears sting my eyes, a bitter offering to the shadow I feel falling across my soul – a silent acknowledgement of a loss that could unravel my very being. The certainty of the coming sorrow darkens even the sweetest joys. A crushing weight aches within my chest, a raw and painful reminder of what will very soon be. Despite my brokenness, I desperately plea with the darkness: I must believe that if this is goodbye, please let it be only temporary. If there is something more after we leave this place, let me forever choose to come back for just the chance to meet him and love him again.
It seems to me that I’ve had quite a bit of bad luck lately. I’m truly not sure what I’ve done to offend lady Karma, but she has since responded and laid her divine retribution squarely on my shoulders, consistently, for the past month. While I do not understand, I am listening, I amlearning, I am trying… but I’m struggling to hold it together. I personally do not believe in god or prayer, but I do believe in good vibes and positive thoughts. Whatever you believe, if you want to offer anything, I only ask that you please don’t offer it for me. I will manage. Please offer them for my kitty boy, Nico. <3
Nico, you are daddy’s heart in furry pajamas. I love you <3
As I was waking this morning, my partner came to say good morning with a kiss and casually mentioned “The water was being weird when I was showering.” I grew up on a well – so I’m no stranger to the odd things that sometimes happen. When I asked for clarification, he said “There was a lot of pressure at first, and then it just died off and went down to a little trickle.” I hopped out of bed. A quick flick of the faucet in the bathroom confirmed the well was definitely not pumping water. So, while he was still trying to finish getting ready to leave for work at the disgustingly early hour of 5am, I was quickly gathering the last few drops of water from the pressure tank.
You see, we live in an unincorporated township in Franklin County. Our entire neighborhood has their own water wells and septic tanks. He’s a city boy, so he didn’t understand that the residual pressure from the pressure tank was precious. He probably thought I was half-cocked when I suggested he not flush the toilet or use any more water until I could make sure I had enough set aside for emergency use (and for the critters).
I assumed the worst, given that I’ve lived here for 10 years and not had any failures yet. But to be thorough, I thought I’d start at power and work my way deeper. I checked the breaker, but it was still on. Next stop, the pressure controller. The gauge was indeed at 0psi. Upon opening the cover, I was greeted with this.
If you look above the terminals at the contacts, you’ll notice the assembly on the right side has decided to spontaneously disassemble itself. The tiny captive spring had ejected, making it impossible to repair. Faaaaaack. Luckily this is a standard part. Home Depot (aka Homo Depot in the lingo) didn’t have the exact Square D (a VERY common brand of electrical products, typically made by Schneider Electric, I think) part, but the big blue L did. $40 later, and I was ready to get wet… again.
The pressure switch sits on a small riser off the manifold of the pressure tank. All it does is switch the current from the source to the pump controller. There are a few different models that have higher or lower cutoff pressures (mine turns on at 30psi and off at 50psi). I didn’t want to monkey with changing anything, so I stuck with the pressure values I already had. Once I confirmed the tank was empty (by opening that inconveniently placed blue valve near the floor), I popped the old controller and riser tube off.
A few quick turns of teflon tape around the ends of the riser was all it took to ensure a leak-free fit. I used a pipe wrench to assist fitting the riser to the controller, then used the controller itself to twist the riser back onto the manifold.
Why does it always look so sketchy around people’s wells? Mine is no different. I managed to get the power turned back on and just as I got back to the crawlspace, visibly confirmed the pump was turning off at 50psi. (52psi, according to the gauge. Good enough!) I then had to crawl out of the crawl space to turn on the water upstairs so I could ensure the pump turned back on when the pressure dropped to 30psi. After a few cycles, I put the cover back on the controller and called it a success. I’ll check again later for any leaks – but as it looks now, all is leak-free!
What a way to start a Monday. At least it was something easy and not the pump itself! For that, I’d probably call someone for help. Now it’s time for another coffee and then a hot shower before work!
