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.
Nico is my heart. He isn’t a pet, he is my family. He’s part of me. To lose him is to lose a piece of myself. I think of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s words in The Little Prince: “you become responsible, forever, for that which you’ve tamed.” I am forever bound to him, just as he has quietly, steadily tamed a space within my heart – a vulnerability and joy I never knew existed. He is comfort and unconditional love. Nico finds solace in being as close as possible, always nestled in my lap, or sprawled, purring, on my chest when I lie down. It’s a comforting reassurance, a tangible expression of his unwavering affection. But under his tiny fur-covered body, the looming weight of responsibility feels immense.
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!
Trash. This kind of shit boils my blood. Why would any company pay, quite handsomely might I add, to use software that can not be controlled once installed? This isn’t some cloud hosted app or service, this is Windows Server. That customers run on THEIR OWN HARDWARE. Possibly in a secure enclave, who knows? Why should Microsoft need telemetry data about how customers are using this in private environments? Why is it sent online, why isn’t it gathered and shared when a support case is needed? Why can customers not opt out entirely?
The real kick in the teeth is that last line. You didn’t read and just clicked enter? Boy, oh boy! Guess what, you just gave Microsoft your browsing history! Information about all your apps, all your usage activity, everything. F. That. For me, it’s #LinuxOrFuckOff.
PSA: I work at Microsoft. I focus on Cloud. I understand many services gather telemetry data to ensure they’re not being abused, are operating correctly, and users are getting what they paid for. This, however, is not the same. Windoze is not my thing, I don’t get paid on whether customers use it or not. I will help customers use it if they must, but otherwise I focus on software that respects user privacy. Some day my words will probably get me fired, but outspokenness regarding the missteps by the other areas of the company is just one way that I demonstrate to my customers that I have their best interest at heart. Sorry, boss! </grin>
I wanted to book a reservation at one of my favorite restaurants (well, it USED TO BE a favorite, not anymore!) until I saw this nonsense:
I don’t know if this is some new thing from OpenTable or if Cameron‘s is just having issues with people not showing, I don’t care. Regardless, I will never consent to this. Forcing your guests who intend to show up for their reservations divulge personal information to a third party in order to offset the cost of those guests who do not make good on their reservations is unacceptable!
You’re off the list. Goodbye, Cameron’s!
Edit: I spoke with the restaurant, and while they were aware of this new practice – they were unhappy with it as well! They said Cameron Mitchell themselves (the restaurant is part of a local restaurant group) forced this for all reservations on the holiday weekend. See: https://cameronmitchell.com/ for other restaurants likely practicing this behavior. If you want to call to voice your opinion on this matter, their phone number is +1 (614) 621-3663.
Just got off the phone with Lexi at UniTel who gave ZERO fucks about the fact I was able to log in to someone else’s account. It turns out if you visit https://www.unitelcustomer.com/process-password-recovery-token.php and click Submit, you’re able to reset another user’s password without entering anything! I was able to not only log in, but also view PII ( Name, Address, Phone, Email ) of some dude and his business in Alaska.
I wrote him an email and Cc’d UniTel’s support team. As for their service, I will not be signing up. Yikes!
