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United Association of Union Plumbers, Fitters, Welders and Service Techs

2018.10.13 17:27 United Association of Union Plumbers, Fitters, Welders and Service Techs

A place for United Association of Journeymen and Apprentices of the Plumbing, Pipefitting and Sprinkler Fitting Industry of the United States and Canada (UA or United Association) to be able to share with other members and Locals. This is an UNOFFICIAL subreddit. Remember: Fidelity, Education, Benevolence, and Protection. [United Association](https://ua.org)
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2024.05.15 09:56 InsaneComicBooker Wizards...Nine? A proposal

UNMARKED SPOILERS BELOW, I will sadly go into spoiler territorry so often the post would look like a bad SCP Foundation article if I tried to black out every single one.
First thing I thought upon finding out about the Wizard Three in Sigil was to notice an opportunitty to include more iconic characters. As we learned more about their role I noticed several complaints about them. Like, "why are we having epic level NPCs relegating the work to mid-level party"? Or "isn't Tasha evil? What is she doing here?" Or "how the hell did Kas fool Tasha, who knows Mordekainen very well?". And so an idea to fix these issues all at once presented itself to me.
In this version of adventure, the PCs are summonned not by Wizard Three, but Wizard Nine. Nine iconic, high-level wizards or other magic users from across D&D worlds or even beyond. They were all summonned to Sigil, to each tap into one of Outer Planes of appriopriate aligment and channel that power into Wish, so the Will of the entire multiverse wishes of Vecna's death. Once it fails, the wizards realize it means one of them must nto be who they claim, possibly an agent of Vecna. So they immediatelly lock themselves in Sanctuary - only PCs can enter and leave because they weren't i nthe room doing the casting of that super Wish. And every time they return with next piece of the Rod, they find Wizards in most disfunctional game of Among Us ever, often probably erupting into violence - this is nine geniuses working AGAINST each other as everyone suspects everyone.
Now, you could keep the original reveal, where Mordekainen is the imposter. If you do, I would advocate against bringing any magic users who know him, like Tasha, Elminster, Storm Silverhand or Dalamar the Dark. If you decide to change the imposter's identity, you can happily bring in some of them, but I would avoid those who know each other (so if you want Elminster, then no Mordekainen or Dalamar).
Evil characters can work with this group because of several reasons, which they should be open about. They may vary from "You think I don't realize Vecna is going to screw ME over alongside everyone else", through "uppity gods need to be put in their place, especially this one" to "I would love what the guy is promising to do to all creation, but I'm not bending my knee to NOBODY!".
Below is a list of proposed characters to use from as many worlds I could think of. I will be comign back to this post to add more names and more worlds with further research, potentially going even beyond strictly D&D settings. You ca drop your own suggestions, I will happily add them to the list with next edit. All requirements are that the character is able to cast 9th level spells, if you have any notes for potential DM willing to use them, please provide them as well.
Eberron - I noticed most of suggestions for Eberron are of evil variety, due to the setting's lack of high-level heroic NPCs (with two exceptions that cannot leave their seats of power), but we'll work with what we have
Exandria (Critical Role) - I noticed most Exandria characters don't reach this high level - even Circle of Brass from Calamity were level 15. However, I found two options to provide a bit of fanservice for any critters at your table, both Chaotic Good:
Krynn (Dragonlance)
Magic the Gathering - there are many worlds in this franchise, but they're often very shallow, so I will group this stuff together.
Mystara - one of my beloved classic worlds, poses an issue because it never conformed to classic 9-types aligment, isntead opting for lawful (defined as "altruistic") and chaotic ("selfish"). A rare exception, 2e book Glantri: Kingdom of Magic, was a big help here.
Oearth (Greyhawk)
Toril (Forgotten Realms)
Domains of Dread (Ravenloft) - I put this one last because of unique use we could have out of Domaind of Dread in this campaign. You see, we know that characterstrapped in Demiplane of Dread cannot leave that easily, they need Dark Powers' permission. And Dark Powers are backing up Kas. I have also seen multiple complaints how both main antagonists of this campaign - Vecna nad Kas - are absent from most of it, with many ideas being thrown around about having Kas as an active rival that competes for pieces of the Rod. It occured to me that he may play that role, while we still have an impostor - another character trapped in Demiplane of Dread could be working with Kas and the Dark Powers in exchange for their freedom. This way we could even allow PCs to sherlock holmes who the traitor is between collecting different pieces of the Rod, and still can have Kas show up with hordes of monsters to steal the Rod later. All that matters is they do not impersonate a character of the same aligment. Here are some candidates for this role:
That's for now, but rest assured, I shall be returning to this post to update it with more characters, potentially more campaign worlds even. Your suggestions whom to add are always welcome.
submitted by InsaneComicBooker to VecnaEveofRuin [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 06:48 Door_Knobs Compressor flashing orange and ice building up

Excuse my ignorance if I use the wrong word or lack knowledge, first time home owner. My Goodman hvac unit in the basement is not properly functioning. I have ac turned on on the first and second floor with no cooling. The unit down stairs on the control panel has an orange light on the “compressor” indicator. There is ice build up on one of the brass pipes leading into the unit and a slight hissing sound. Any guidance would be appreciated.
submitted by Door_Knobs to hvacadvice [link] [comments]

2024.05.14 22:28 Active-Classic5108 Looking for advice

Long story long: We have had a guy do some plumbing work in both our commercial and residential spaces, and HVAC work in our commercial space - originally from a referral by a friend. The guy has a business name appropriately HVAC/Mechanical, an LLC, and has done good work at reasonable prices, and communicated well historically. We had a heat wave in maybe February and the AC in the commercial space didn't cool. He was scheduled for a Spring maintenance anyway, so he checked it out. There was a considerable repair needed, and the incumbent system was approximately 20 years old. The repair was going to be close to $2k including labor, so we began to discuss replacement as an alternative. He gave me a price in the $9k range for 2.5ton heatpump. This is a 3-story building, so a chunk of that was a crane fee. I spoke with another property owner in the building and we negotiated to coordinate the same HVAC guy installing two new units and splitting the $2k crane fee. I specifically asked the HVAC guy if he could handle a job this big, and he assured me that he had done hundreds of these. He requested payment in full and said he could usually do the installation 2-3 days after payment. We both paid him 3/21, and he scheduled the installation the following week. You can tell where this is going - he's still not done - we're into the 80's weather-wise, and have had to refund rental fees to our tenant because no AC and this is a foid-prep space that needs temperature control. His communications have become poor to unresponsive. I know now, that I never should have paid him in-full in advance. I trusted him. Along the way he has had excuse after excuse: crane availability issues, injuries resulting in not being cleared to work, etc. Now - the equipment is all installed and working in the other guy's place but not ours. He says our unit has a bad defrost zone board. On a brand new Goodman unit. Sure.... Unfortunately, I have finally lost all confidence in his words. I now feel as though he has been lying to me all along, and I don't trust him anymore.
I have called another local HVAC company that does our residence and asked them to provide an assessment after this repair is completed and the system is working. They looked up the unit by serial number, and confirmed that they can provide warranty repair, but they say that the unit has a 5- year warranty and the original guy said 10-years. They also said there's no permit pulled on the job, and that it is required in this jurisdiction.
So - where do I go from here? Am I liable for a code violation as the property owner? What do the esteemed members of the HVAC community recommend I do?
I'm totally willing to lose his 1-year labor warranty, but is the equipment under a 5-year or a 10-year warranty?
submitted by Active-Classic5108 to hvacadvice [link] [comments]

2024.05.14 18:02 zaahc Wet insulation and damp sheathing. Is siding contractor responsible? How to proceed?

About three years ago I had a siding company redo our house. They removed the old siding, re-wrapped the house with some (what they called) premium housewrap, added a layer of rigid foam insulation, and then completed the work with a good vinyl siding. There were a few quality issues, but overall it was definitely an aesthetic improvement.
Last week we had some HVAC guys out hanging a minisplit head in a guest bedroom. They pulled me aside as they were running the lineset through the exterior wall. The insulation inside was soaking wet. The wood sheathing was dark and wet. When they completed drilling the hole, a stream of water poured out from the underside of the siding. In their words, "it's like it wasn't weeping."
Upon further inspection, we've also noticed two streaks of discoloration coming from what appears to be moisture dripping from behind a nearby outlet. The only thing above this area is another bedroom, and there is no plumbing in the wall. I bought a Klein pinless/EMF moisture meter, and it was giving concerningly high readings in a number of different areas.
The siding company is saying that they'll of course honor the manufacturers warranty if there's a defect in the material, but that we're well outside the one year labor warranty.
I'll be the first to admit that I don't know what I don't know, so I'm hoping someone might be able to offer some guidance on how to proceed. What should we expect? What should we demand? I'm currently of the opinion that water is somehow penetrating the envelope they created, so it should ultimately be up to them to fix. If it wasn't a defect in the materials, it was a defect in the workmanship of the installers. Fixing it shouldn't incur a service charge that I have to pay for. Am I being unreasonable? Are there other factors that I'm failing to consider? Should we be asking that they inspect all of their work, or just the wall where we noticed the issue?
A guy from the siding company is coming over tomorrow. What should I know before then?
Thanks!
submitted by zaahc to HomeImprovement [link] [comments]

2024.05.14 12:16 smartybrome Udemy Free Courses for 14 May 2024

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2024.05.14 12:16 smartybrome Udemy Free Courses for 14 May 2024

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2024.05.14 02:23 NoLife1056 Starting HVAC Business

Hey, I'm starting an HVAC business in Ontario and looking for tips on starting up. I'm in my early 20s and have my G2 and I'm in works to be a 313A/D apprentice to legally work on AC units which I've been doing last 4 years. I know I need a TSSA number, insurance and a vehicle to work out of along with HST number, is there anything I should be aware of?
My plan for my 313 apprenticeship is working with a guy one or two days a week who is the only one in his business and doesnt want to expand he is going to sign me on as an apprentice. For work for my business I will act as a subcontractor through a business proposition I've been offered and then I will also work on my own contracts and calls I get by posting ads online, business cards and word of mouth. The company that will make me a 313A apprentice will also provide me pay. As for a vehicle I'm planning on financing a older cube van that can last me at least a year while I build up my company until I can afford a bigger and better one. Any tips, advice or flaws in my plans here that someone can tell me? Or mistakes to avoid and navigate?
submitted by NoLife1056 to HVAC [link] [comments]

2024.05.13 11:02 WubWubington How to get into the industry

I recently graduated mechanical engineering and have been going through the job hunt. I have around 20 months of co-op experience but that hasn’t seem to have made a great difference.
I was hoping to give MEP engineering a shot, as the course I took on HVAC was pretty interesting. The issue I’m running into is there are NO entry level positions that I can find and none of my co-ops overlap with the industry.
Is there some stuff I can do during my downtime to increase my future viability such as certificates etc ? Is there a lesser (for lack of a better word) role that would commonly be able to transition to engineering ?
submitted by WubWubington to MEPEngineering [link] [comments]

2024.05.10 05:37 Realistic_Zombie2720 Feeling guilty for leaving current job for better offer?

I currently work for a small family HVAC business and have been there for a little over two years. I love everyone I work with and get along with them all so well. A friend of mine let me know that the HVAC company she works for, that is larger and more commercial rather than residential like my current company, was hiring. She put in a good word for me and they invited me in for an interview. I figured why not and met with them. They loved me and I really liked everyone there and they offered me a position making more than what I currently am. The benefits are better, the time off is better etc. It’s a different job role than I have now, I am currently a dispatcher but this is more in inside sales/warranty claims. There’s much more room for me to grow and I think financially it’s best for me to make the switch. However I am having major guilt for wanting to leave my current job. The job just kind of fell into my lap so I already know it’s going to be out of the blue so they’re going to be shocked. So I think the guilt may be that I feel like I’m blindsiding them knowing they’re going to struggle until they find a replacement? How do I stop feeling this way? I’ve left jobs before and felt the same way but they were jobs I was unhappy at so I got over it very quickly. Am I crazy for feeling this way? Any advice on the easiest way to break the news?
submitted by Realistic_Zombie2720 to careeradvice [link] [comments]

2024.05.08 18:07 Bulldogmom1127 AITAH for cutting off my family for getting a restraining order on my husband?

I (33 F) have been married to my husband (32M) for a few months but we’ve been together for 6 years. My parents had asked us to move into their home two years back to help them out since my dad is medically disabled. We agreed because this would allow us to save up for a house. When I was 19, my father had a brain tumor and at the same time his mother was in the hospital and it wasn’t good. My mom spent all her time at the hospital with my grandma so I decided to take 2 years off from college and put in a leave of absence from my job until my dad was better so I could take care of him and my brother who is younger. Fast forward, I met my now husband at work and we hit it off. From the beginning, he took it upon himself to take my father to appointments and fix things around the house for them. When we moved in, my husband fixed the house for my parents everyday after working 10 hours a day. Anything they asked off him, he did. He fixed the dryer 6 times, he repaired the HVAC system (he is not in HVAC, he took his personal time to learn the basics so our heat would work) and anything else they needed. So now we are married for a few months and have been looking for a home. My mother has been rude and passive aggressive with him ever since we got married.
Some back story on my childhood. I was emotionally abused by my mom and was taught how to hate my father because he was always working. My mother always used to tell me that my dad had no time for me and to not bother him for anything. My mother once broke an easel over my head when I was 6 because I was playing Barbie’s with my friend and she wanted to play with my new one and I told her she could play with any other one she wanted. My mother has always been toxic but I was always gaslit by family and friends and it was always my fault. My brother on the other hand had stolen from my parents, stolen thousands and thousands of dollars from them, became addicted to hard drugs and has threatened to beat my parents and myself multiple times. He’s the golden child and can do no wrong. I have always resented my parents for this but was always made to believe that I was being stupid and it was my fault.
My husband and I have put our own money into my parents house to help fix it for them with no request for payment back. My parents have been ungrateful for everything we, especially my husband, have done for them but we kept doing it because we lived there too. I recently was told by my therapist that in order to be healthy for myself and my husband I would have to confront my parents about all the issues and trauma that I had been living with. So I do this and all of a sudden, they claim my husband is brain washing me. In their words, there was never an issue so why am I speaking up now? I was explaining to them that my therapist wants me to work on being more healthy with my family and that is why I chose to speak to them.
My husband and I received many gifts for our wedding and both of my parents said to place them in a room no one uses. Just recently, they’ve been complaining about the gifts and told us to figure out storage. So yesterday, we bought a small shed from Sam’s Club so we can place all of our things in it. This is what set my mother off. She said it was her house and we had no right to purchase it. When we tried to explain the reason for it, she started screaming at my husband, telling him he does nothing in the house and we just choose to do whatever we want to do because we are selfish. She also said she wanted us out of “her” house. I told her we had no place to go and that we needed time. She then charged my husband and went to punch him in the face. My father stopped her and then they called the police. When the police came, they told us that they felt sorry for us because we hadn’t done anything but that they decided to place a temporary restraining order on my husband and that they wanted me evaluated for brain washing and Stockholm syndrome. All of this over a freakin shed? The cops came a few hours later and said that I didn’t have to leave but that temporarily he would have to. So we packed up our things and our dog and left to a hotel. I’ve been getting messages from family saying that I’m in the wrong and I’m an Asshole because I put my parents through hell. I’ve decided for my own mental health that I need to cut off all toxic family members because my husband and I don’t deserve this. AITAH?
Edit: hey all. I noticed my wording about the Stockholm Syndrome and brainwashing nonsense sounded like it came from the cops. I’m sorry. My parents were yelling and begging the police to “evaluate me because I would never speak to them like this on my own”. The police obviously didn’t do anything of the sort and even told my parents that I was clearly speaking for myself and was under no duress.
submitted by Bulldogmom1127 to AITAH [link] [comments]

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2024.05.08 13:30 smartybrome Udemy Free Courses for 08 May 2024

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2024.05.08 03:13 Green-Reserve5341 [3 YoE] MechE looking for Entry Level Manufacturing Engineer Roles

[3 YoE] MechE looking for Entry Level Manufacturing Engineer Roles
Hi all - I'm looking to pivot out of the HVAC industry and into an entry level manufacturing role. I am looking to get my foot in the door in any aspect of the production. I'm looking to apply to process, quality, and continuous improvement roles. Any advice or insights would be greatly appreciated. Thank you!
Resume
submitted by Green-Reserve5341 to EngineeringResumes [link] [comments]

2024.05.07 16:45 Inhalationofnewtion 2nd shot with a Friend but it seems to be going the same way as it did before. One way Friendship.

This is long... This is very long.
I'm married, two children, my Wife is awesome. We live in a small community in a wooded/rural area. It's not Donner Pass but we are out in the boonies. We have to be somewhat able and self sufficient. It's not off grid prepper stuff but we have to be able to do more ourselves than if we lived in town.
A few years back, my Wifes Friend and I guess you'd call him a friendly acquaintance of mine moved up on the mountain. Let's call him Frank. The guy has issues, as do we all, but he's functional, intelligent, and quite handy. A decent guy to know to help get things done.
When he moved in, the property he bought was a disaster. Previous owner used to get all manner of Amazon returns and stockpile the stuff. Also anything else he could drag home for free or dirt cheap. All kinds of crap everywhere with zero organization. A couple of giant burn piles where of course he's burning just whatever, a pickup truck bed camper in disrepair full of stuff, ratty tarps and tents covering more crap. Squalor and chaos.
The property does have a functional well and **some** kind of septic system and there's power run to it. There's a small building attached to a camper but with some work it can be made liveable. So we sort of have the bare essentials covered. We just have a ton of work to do.
So I'm excited, my Wife is excited, Frank is excited as well. We all figure let's get Frank set up. Running water, working toilet, sink, wood/coal stove, major cleanup on the property, a water heater, washing machine, a shower or even a bath tub would be real nice as well. Basic stuff so he can do for himself because at this point he's showering and doing laundry and eating supper all at our house. I figure if I'm in a spot, I could go up there and have a shower or do laundry you know?
We get to work. First we have to finish even moving the guy in so he can be rid of the trailer he's renting in a trailer park. Turns out the guy is a hoarder and it's heavy. The guy has more stuff packed into his trailer then we actually know what to do with. At least it's nothing disgusting and most of it I can see at least some value in it. I can see why he'd keep hold of things like this but Man there's a LOT!!! I don't know how he can even store all this stuff so I figured let's make this easy and I bought him a 40' shipping container and had it delivered to his place. We get it there and we assemble storage racks that were left on the property by the previous owner inside the shipping container. I'm not rich but at this point I don't terribly miss the money and I figure helping this dude out will benefit me and my Family. Within two weeks, Frank is out of his trailer and everything he owns is jammed into the shipping container. It's tight but it's somewhat organized at least.
Now! Let's get to work! And we do. We start clearing out some of the actual trash. Say 15 hours and we can notice that we made a dent. Another 15 hours, it still kind of looks for shit but we can at least make sense of the place now. We're really doing something here! It's heavy and dirty and disgusting but we're having a lot of fun with it and feeling pretty good. As we're going, we find some actual decent things in the piles that the previous owner left behind and we're trying to not waste anything because we're not rich and we might need the stuff.
It gets to a point where it's starting to become really dirty work and even a garden hose would be pretty dang amazing just to at least wash up a little bit because we really don't know what's in some of these piles but Man we're digging deep into them! My Wife goes through the nonsense of getting his power turned on. Frank has enough money saved to get it turned on and to keep it going a while.
Ok, we got power and we can make some water happen now. We scrounged up a shitter and a sink, bought some PVC and got that happening. Now we can wash up and we don't have to crap in the woods anymore. We also found a decent Harmann wood/coal burner and installed that. Nothing ideal but we're looking pretty damn good compared to when we started. The stove was free. The previous owner switched to pellets and had no use for it. We had to get it out and move it of course but nothing we can't handle.
So now it's getting to at least 40 hours at Franks place, maybe 60 hours. I wasn't really keeping track. The place still looks like hell but we're making steady progress and it's more or less "liveable". Meanwhile there are things piling up at my own house. The roof needs a little attention, some work on my backhoe, vehicle repairs and maintenance. Normal everyday stuff that got put to the back burner for a while as we set this guy up but it's starting to pile up and I have to get this shit done.
"Hey Frank, you mind coming down a little while and pitching in with this or that?"
At first, yea he makes his way down and helps out. Not at the crack of dawn, say 11 AM or so. Fine and dandy. This isn't pay work and I don't start early myself, nor do I go very long and hard on these tasks. Put in a couple hours until I feel like I accomplished something and call it a day. I don't think I'm asking much.
After a bit though, he's showing up later and later. If Frank says 12-ish, it means like 2PM or something. One day I have to remove the backhoe from my tractor in order to replace some hydraulic lines. This assembly weighs about 4 tons. It's on a 1967 Case 580 CK. Not the biggest thing but it's no joke. Frank is skilled with cranes and forklifts and other heavy stuff and I figure he could just come down and help me make damn sure this thing is going to be stable. I'm going to have the hydraulics opened up and if it's not properly supported it could move on me and that might well be it for me.
So the day comes. I have my tractor in the driveway and I have the backhoe dismounted from the tractor but still hooked to the hydraulics by around 10-11AM. Now I'm sitting and waiting on Frank. Finally about 1AM he rolls in. The first thing he does is to sit down and use my blowtorch to clean out his one hitter so he can do a little wake and bake. I've been ready and waiting for a couple hours and now the dude is going to sit and get high before we're going to work with some heavy shit and he's burning my propane to do so. Yea I'm kind of annoyed and I let him know. I tried to not be too much of an asshole but I wasn't pleasant about it. I didn't yell or anything but I'm sure I came off kind of asshole-ish.
He finishes up with the one hitter, takes a few wacks off it, says he's go tot go home and crap. Lovely... He's been lighting up my toilet for a while now, what's the big deal? Anyhow he heads back home. I'm sitting there for an hour or so scratching my ass, screw it I'll figure it out. I'm scared as hell but I manage to get my lines replaced. I bring the tractor into position and get the bottom mounting pins locked in. There are two more up top of the backhoe assembly and then it's solidly mounted. I screwed up by not hooking the hydraulic lines from the tractor to the backhoe and doesn't the damn thing just sort of drop right to the ground because the boom, bucket, and dipper arm are open. I took precautions against this but I guess I didn't do very well. I didn't lose the whole show but it scared the hell out of me and I shut the tractor down and walked away for a while. It was a split second and if I was under it I'd either have been dead or wishing for it. I calmed myself down after a while and finished the job. Frank never showed back up that day.
After I got done, I was sitting there a while. After that dopamine hit from getting the job done wore off I was starting to feel pretty let down and pissed off. My Wife and I put real time, and heart and soul in up at Franks place. We'd get up there about 9AM-10AM and get to it. Half the time, Frank would be hungover and it would literally be 2-3 hours until he was any kind of mobile. We're up there at his place trying to get shit done so he has a setup and he's dragging his ass because he was up until 3AM the previous night getting shitfaced.
The plan was, after he was set, we'd get into some nonsense. Cleanouts from tenants that left an apartment full of stuff, scrapping, maybe some lawn work, plowing snow on the mountain here, whatever. Not getting rich but at least paying the bills and having a laugh. At first, Frank is all about it. The cleanouts were his idea. I never knew you actually could get some decent pay for this type of thing. After a while though Frank starts throwing up roadblocks about we need to be an LLC and have a few fairly new looking trucks before we can start when I'm watching something like "Randys Hauling" on the side of a beat up old truck going up and down the mountain and he's getting that pay. On OUR mountain and we could be easily doing this right now! He kept throwing these obstacles up on all sorts of projects. It felt like Frank was deliberately throwing wrenches wherever he could in order to halt any progress.
Eventually I tried talking with him. I told him "I'm not really feeling the return on this investment.". and Frank says "I'm sorry you feel that way.". It kind of went to shit from there. I got to the point where I didn't want anything more to do with him. I was a door mat for a long time in my childhood and it felt like I was getting played for a stooge yet again. It felt like he was also taking advantage of my Wife. But hey, she's been Friends with him for quite a while. In fact she was Friends with him before we were even dating. I'm not going to tell her she can't hang out with the guy. You'll just have to take my word that she's not the type to play around when she's in a committed relationship. Not sure if I have much faith in Frank but I have faith in my Wife.
Frank is no longer coming to the house, there are arguments between my Wife and I about the guy. All I can see is that she's getting played by the guy. Eventually, Frank has a Friend who offers him to go to a blues concert because Franks Friend has noone to go with but has an extra ticket. This is a weekend thing where you camp and party and listen to performers. My Wife is already running ragged here there and everywhere. Frank asks my Wife to keep an eye on his dogs while he's away and of course she wants to help out. She's just like that. One day, turns out my Wife is too busy to take care of it and my Daughter has to go check on the dogs. My Daughter can't find the keys to get inside Franks camper. Now don't you know I have to go up there and take on this guys responsibilities while he's out at a concert partying his ass off. I put my foot down because at this point the guy is messing with the entire Family and holding all of us up. I told my Wife that WE are done with him and shit hit the fan for a while but eventually she started to see shit for herself and we all just cut off from the guy.
This is breaking my heart. I really do love the guy and I know it's killing my Wife to cut off from a Friend. But it's a one way Friendship. Frank will jump for someone he really cares about, but us, we're just useful or so it seems to me.
3 years go by. My Wife still talks with Frank via text and I'm not thrilled with it but I'm not going to push it either. Whatever it's not holding up our show. Time goes by... I simmer down, Frank calms down. I do indeed miss the guy but I'm afraid that if I start talking it'll end up being the same crap all over again. He was good to work with when he felt like it. I work on cars all the time and this guy can look at things and see things that I don't. He's no kind of mechanic but he's already schooled me under the hood as well as setting up a guys garage door that was horribly installed.
In time, yes we do start talking again. I try to make it very clear that if we're going to do anything, we BOTH have to feel properly compensated for our efforts. Be that money, labor swapping, horse trading, whatever. If I do something for Frank and it takes an hour, Frank gets me back satisfactorily and vice versa. This has to be worth it for both of us and all of us.
Well, it happens that Frank finally decides he wants to clean up his property. His truck is not registered, insured, or inspected. His drivers license is expired. There's a lot of scrap up there. I have a road legal truck and I make a proposition. I'll pile scrap on the truck until I feel it's a decent load, he and my Wife will run the load. My wife is a capable driver. She and frank will unload the truck at the scrapyard and meanwhile I'll break the scrap down at his place and have another load ready to go. At the end of the day, the truck gets paid $1 per mile and the tank gets filled for the next day. We split the remainder 3 ways equally. We clean the property up, we all get a few dollars and after a little while he can save the money to get his own truck back on the road.
Frank says there's not enough money in scrapping. There won't be anything left to split after gassing up the truck... Sounds familiar... Ok, how about this then. Let me make a load of absolute BS scrap like old bedsprings, tin cans, and just whatever crap I can, we see how that pays and maybe go from there.
Frank says Hem and Haw, well maybe if it's just Frank and my Wife loading up the truck and they also run and unload the truck he might be in to it. Splitting it 3 ways and with the truck just isn't going to cut it. Now I'm getting confused and a little irritated because I thought the idea was to clean up, not get paid. My Wife also has a screwy elbow and if she goes hard on a job she's in pain the next day. Nope this aint happening. Let's put a pin in this and come back to it. I'm not going to push anymore and my Wife is definitely not into chucking scrap on to the truck as well as off loading it. If he wants to do something and he comes to us, we'll figure it out. If he wants to sit on that scrap, hell with it. I guess this is the Hoarder in his brain talking.
My Wife has a 1896 VW Jetta diesel. It's old and it's been around but it can be made decent. The interior is shit but we have a parts car and a pile of interior parts like carpet and trim, dashboard, and just everything you want to make the inside actually pretty good looking. She's the one that heads up the interior work. I personally hate it. At this point, Frank has no power at his place and he has a little 80cc dirtbike he'd like to use to get up and down the mountain. Private dirt road so we can drive ATV's or golf carts or whatever and it'd be handy.
I have a 300 watt solar panel that I'm not going to use and all the gear to go with it. I have some parts I can use to get his dirtbike going and I know how to get most old carburetted stuff running when it's been sitting a while. We come to an agreement. Frank will be down here working on this Jetta with my Wife until the interior is as good as we can make it. I'll give him the solar panel, help him install it at his place, and get his dirtbike going for him. Also my Wife will handle getting his power back on and a couple of other administrative things. Everyone is feeling OK with it.
We begin. My Wife and I put the first foot forward. We take the solar gear up to his place and get it working. Now at least he can charge his phone and keep a light running. Nothing major but it's something and it's damn handy. I start on the dirtbike. It's a Suzuki 80cc four stroke. The fuel tank is cracked up and leaking like a sieve. I have a tank from an old Honda CR80 and it takes me a while but I get it mounted to the bike and I didn't even have to chop the bike or the tank. The carb on this thing was sitting with fuel in it for years and it's beyond hope. Normally I can open them up and blow the jets with compressed air, maybe carb cleaner and some wires but this thing is completely jammed solid with crap and I can't get it. I have a carb on my shelf and it's actually for that exact engine. So after 6-8 hours of scratching my head and wrenching, I have his bike running just as good as ever and it holds fuel.
Now it's Franks turn. The first day, he actually shows up at a decent hour and the guy is putting his time in. They have the interior all but gutted. Seats, carpet, interior trim(what's left of it) HVAC. Just the dash is left and it's been a good 5 hours so they call it a day. Next day he's right there say 9-10AM. Dang this is working! They're going after removing the cracked up dashboard and something isn't making sense. It seems loose but it's not coming out. I'm out there putzing with my truck and my Wife asks me to come take a look. I get under the dash and I'm looking but I'm damned if I can find what's holding it up. It can wiggle but it's not coming loose. I notice some steel brackets with rivets under the dash just at the bottom of the windshield. All I can think is to cut the rivets loose and the dash will come out but it doesn't make sense because you're not going to get new rivets in when you install the new dash. There's barely room to get a chisel in to cut them loose. Frank figures it out. Frank goes out under the cowl under the hood, pulls up the drip tray and right there are two nuts on studs poking through the firewall. We pull those nuts off and presto the dash is loose! God Damn Frank you're a rock star! I'm SO glad the guy was here! Different perspective? Savant? I don't know but the guy nailed it!
Next day. Again Frank shows up about 10AM and the Jetta is coming around. The carpet is in and looking nice, the trim is installed, The seats are cleaned up and installed. This thing is actually starting to look pretty good! That was a good day. 4-5 hours and they call it. Nice job guys! Looking good!
Next day. Time to install HVAC. We did an AC delete. The Jetta was originally an AC car but most of the gear was gone. The parts car was non-AC and the heater box is much smaller, lighter, and simpler. We clean that up, do a little bit of swapping on wiring harnesses and we install it. Frank isn't here yet and it's about noon. My Wife texts him to see what's up.
Well this girl showed up about midnight last night and the way I gather they were up until the wee hours drinking and boning so he's not into working today. He doesn't know this girl from a hill of beans and about the only thing he DOES know is that she's a real easy piece of ass, I guess pretty cute, and mentally a wreck. Well... Yea I've been hard up myself so I'm trying to be understanding here. If a cute and willing young lady showed up at my place and I was lonely I think I'd take that opportunity as well. He did put some good time in on this vehicle and really saved the day when pulling the dash out. I went to work with my Wife. We got the replacement dash in, Heater installed. Everything assembled, wires routed, job done. The thing looks damn near new on the inside. It was a good 8 hours and I still feel it to day as this was just yesterday and I'm no youngster. My Wife is in pain. I just feel tired.
I can see Franks side, but a deal is a deal. I was trying to talk to my Wife that "We're kind of even right? He put in his time, he really helped out a ton. Neither owes either and we're pretty squared up right?". I wasn't really feeling that but I was willing to be convinced and sort of let it slide. My Wife however doesn't feel that we're square at all. Not only the motorcycle and the solar crap, but she spent hours on the phone and computer and Frank agreed that he'd be there from start to finish on this interior. On the last day, he ditched us because he was busy screwing and drinking with some random chick. While we were finishing up the job, Frank texted my Wife asking if He and this girl could come down to meet and greet. Or would we like to come up and have a fire? My Wife and I are dead tired, it's about 5PM. We normally have supper on the table at this time but we're close and we want to get through it. We're not into entertaining tonight. We want to finish up, get supper, get the kids to bed and crash. We're sure as hell not going up to the junk heap and sitting there at a fire watching these two make out and get tanked up. She texted him something like that. Tired, still working, still have to make supper, not happening.
That's it. If you made it through all that I admire your perseverance and I hope it at least makes sense. This is just my side of course. I have my own issues. I can be an asshole, impatient, I'm kind of obnoxious. I'm trying to work on that stuff and my Wife tells me I'm really reigning it in when I get pissed if something is fighting me. Anymore I'll just walk away and have a smoke or something. I guess I can get sort of pushy when I see shit that needs doing. I want to help but I guess I'm aggressive or too Gung Ho about it.
Anyways, it feels like this relationship with Frank is going to end up the same place as it left off before. All I can think to do is just not really seek him out anymore. If he happens to need something... I don't know... My Wife and my Children and myself are a team. We've got enough going on and we don't need someone dragging us down. I don't want this to get to the point where it did before. I feel like I screwed up even letting this guy back into my life and I'm kind of stressing.
submitted by Inhalationofnewtion to FriendshipAdvice [link] [comments]

2024.05.06 22:39 DudDraciel A/C in new house is unexpectedly broken

My friend closed on her house a few weeks ago and the HVAC was old so she discussed with the seller about replacing it. He agreed to pay half at first but later her realtor told her he would get his own guy and pay for an entire new HVAC. In the paperwork though the seller changed the word HVAC to furnace and she didn’t know the difference. Fast forward to today and the HVAC Unit needs to be replaced entirely and the seller buying a new furnace was irrelevant bc the entire unit needs to be replaced. Is there anything she can do legally?
submitted by DudDraciel to legal [link] [comments]

2024.05.05 23:05 Reasonable_Injury121 Chivalry Is On Life Support, Chapter Thirty-Four

On Wednesday afternoon, as I walked back to the English department building from The Corner Cafe’ with Neil’s coffee, I mentally went through the various steps I had read on-line about how to curtsy. I planned to practice later in my office as well as that evening after Brooke and Luke went to sleep. Brooke had given me a new pair white lace fashion tights that morning that I wore under my khakis. The nylon and lace combination against my skin made me feel especially submissive. And I was still wearing the damned choker for the third day in row.
I decided that women’s tights were not designed for long walks; I had to keep pulling them up and adjusting them as I walked (as inconspicuously as possible).
Neil’s door was open when I walked up. I looked around the hall to see if anyone saw me bringing in the coffee (not that they would know it wasn’t mine, although I was not known to be a big coffee drinker — I tended to favor tea or even Diet Coke for my caffeine).
“Hey, pal.”
“Hi, Neil. Here’s your coffee. I also got you a blueberry muffin. I figured you’re not an a diet, so I thought you might enjoy it.”
“Thanks. Muffins are full of carbs and empty calories. But I did swim laps for an hour this morning, so I guess it’s okay. You didn’t have one, too, did you?”
“Are you kidding? I had an apple.”
In fact, I ate my apple sitting across the table from Brooke as she enjoyed the toasted everything bagel with cream cheese and smoked salmon I had prepared for her, my stomach growling. I wondered if Neil would offer to repay me for the coffee and muffin. He didn’t, that day or in the future, which surprised me. I continue to genuinely like Neil, although many things about him have turned out to surprise me. Perhaps he thought that not paying me back was all part of enhancing my knowledge of masochism or something.
“Good man. Well, we should probably close the door so you can get started.”
I closed the door. His office wasn’t very large so there was only a small area next to his desk chair for me to work.
“What if someone just comes in?,” I said.
“Everyone always knocks when the door is closed, especially when the light is on. But even if someone did, it’s not like you’re giving me a blowjob.” He laughed. “It’s just a foot massage, no big deal.”
Objectively that was true, I suppose, but I felt that was easy for him to say, as the recipient of the massage. Foot massages were happening in nail salons, spas and massage parlors throughout the country at that very moment, without any suggestion of impropriety or anything sexual. Still, at least to a masochist like me, there was just something so fundamentally submissive about the act of kneeling in front someone and massaging the lowest part of their body. Call it the dirty mind of a masochist, I guess.
And sure enough, as I got down on my knees in front of my colleague, my cock began to throb in its cage. At times such as this, I was actually grateful to be locked up. I looked up at Neil, waiting for him to take off his brown, leather shoes (Rockports, I believe). But, as he made no move to do so – I guess Luke had conditioned him to expect the full service treatment from me – I untied his laces and removed his shoes. Meanwhile, he munched on his muffin. More stomach growls of envy from me.
“Would you like me to do the massage with your socks on or off?”
“Oh, definitely off. Just the way you did it at your place.”
I removed his socks and began doing some warm-up twists, and then rubbing the arch of his right foot. While Neil’s feet did not have the chiseled appearance of Luke’s, they were not unattractive for male feet – although they definitely could use some moisturizer. I made a mental note to bring some with me next week (as much for my own comfort as his).
“Man, that feels good.” he sighed contentedly. “Three back-to-back classes are killer.”
Neil and l actually had a pleasant conversation as I worked on his feet. We spent some time discussing my book. For my chapter covering 19th and 20th century fiction, I wanted his insight on Patrick Hamilton’s novel, Hangover Square, which, while not overtly about cuckolding, was certainly about a serious male masochist. Hamilton’s protagonist essentially becomes a simp to a manipulative failed actress who he is in love with and her fascist boyfriend. Suffering from dissociative identity disorder (and alcoholism), he eventually goes on a murderous rampage against his tormentors.
Some readers of my tale may either needlessly worry, or foolishly wish, that I will go on a murderous rampage against Luke and/or Brooke. That, of course, is beyond preposterous. First, I am not mentally ill. Second, I love Brooke and, but for erotic and obsessive love, I know that she loves me. Third, the relationship I have entered into with Luke and Brooke is one I pledged to do as a condition of marrying Brooke and keeping her in my life. I did it with full free will; I stay in it with full free will. Fourth, I have enough self awareness to know that another reason that I stay in the relationship is because it satisfies some deep masochistic need in me. Brooke saw this need in me before I saw it myself (I’ve always known that she is far smarter than I). Some no doubt believe I am totally devoid of self respect and despise me for my passivity, for not taking dramatic steps to end my subjugation. I would counter that someone who resorts to violence is far more pathetic and lacking in self respect than I.
Paul and Anna are a somewhat different story, as there is an element of coercion involved. But violence as a remedy is still unthinkable to me. And I have to admit that, like Brooke, I too have been caught up in “the game.” My brain is my biggest sexual organ by far (it doesn’t have much competition, admittedly), and I’m excited (both sexually and intellectually) to see how far they will take things. You probably have to be a masochist to understand...
To those readers who are sincerely worried about me and my mental health, I say: thank you, I genuinely appreciate your concern. One never knows for sure, but I think that I’ll be okay. To those handful of judgmental readers who loathe me because I’m not doing what they believe they would do in similar circumstances, who despise me because I don’t conform to their oversimplified concept of manhood – you know who you are – by forcefully taking matters into my own hands in some dramatic manner, I say: get over yourselves. I am not you; I’m me. And I’m probably more of a man than many of you are even when I’m dressed in a garter belt, stockings and a maid’s cap, trying ineptly to curtsy to my superiors. But I digress.
Neil and I also discussed his upcoming tenure process. I assured him that he would have my full support in the consultation and subsequent letter of recommendation. I had just wrapped up his 45-minute massage with gentle squeezes to the tips of each of his toes and was about to put his socks and shoes back on his feet when there was a knock on the door. I quickly stood up and stepped to the other side of Neil’s desk.
“Come in,” said Neil.
The door opened and Paul Betz walked in. Neil’s feet were under his desk, but his shoes and socks were lying in plain view on the floor next to him. A bit odd for a cold December day. Knowing Paul as I was beginning to, I was fairly certain that it did not escape his attention.
“Hi, Professor Lawson. Professor Rollins,” he nodded at me, with a faint smile.
Hi, Paul,” said Neil warmly.
“Hi, Paul. I was just leaving,” I said.
“See you later, pal. Thanks a bunch,” said Neil, as I left the room.
Luke was back Wednesday night, and was actually in an unusually good mood, having signed a letter of intent to acquire a company in Indiana, the next frontier of his expanding empire. I cooked them grilled salmon, asparagus and wild rice, while I had a few pieces of salmon in my salad.
As I served Luke a third Yuengling and Brooke a third glass of wine, Luke said, “That was a damn good dinner, prof. I tell you what. I’m in such a good mood tonight, I’m going to let you have a glass of wine so we can all toast my new deal. Get yourself a glass.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
After I filled my glass with Pinot Gris, Brooke raised her glass and said, “To Hanover HVAC and Plumbing!” After we clinked our glasses, she said to Luke, “Ok, babe, it’s been three days, and I’m hornier than hell. Take me upstairs now, please.”
“Hold your horses, baby. Let’s finish our drinks first.”
Brooke downed her glass and said, “Okay, I’m done.”
“Think of your husband, here. He finally gets to have a drink with us and you’re rushing him.”
“Since you’re in such a good mood, babe, maybe he could join us – in bed. What do you think?”, Brooke asked him.
“Why not? Cuck, do you have any boxer shorts left?”
“Walter only wore tighty whiteys before I made him switch to panties and tights. I only let him keep two pairs of his old underwear.”
“Go, put on your tighty whiteys, prof, and we’ll meet you in the bedroom. You can take your glass of wine with you.”
Well, this was different. I went upstairs and undressed, removing the fashion tights I had been wearing all day under my pants, and put on a pair of my old underwear.
When they came upstairs, Brooke started laughing loudly when she saw me. ”I’m sorry to laugh, Walter. It’s just that it’s been so long since I’ve seen you in men’s underwear. Even those. It just doesn’t seem natural.” I had to admit, it did feel strange wearing them after all this time. Still, the humiliation of Brooke’s words (and her accompanying smile) caused my cock to throb.
“Kneel down and get the key from Brooke’s anklet and I’ll unlock you.”
I did as he commanded, growing instantly hard the moment he unlocked me and tenting out my tight, white cotton briefs. Meanwhile, they both stripped as well. Luke was completely naked and Brooke was naked except for a pair of white ankle socks. As much as I loved her bare feet, it was incredibly sexy to see her wearing only the socks (and the anklet). Brooke then spread lubricant all over Luke’s hardening cock as she kissed him passionately.
Luke next ordered me to lie down on the bed, and easily picked Brooke up, placing her on her knees over me at the edge of the bed. To be more precise, she faced the other direction from me and her vagina and lovely bottom were right above my neck. Standing next to the bed, he then penetrated her anally, his cock and scrotum inches above my face, causing her to moan.
“Lick my balls, cuck.”
I began licking his balls as he went in and out of Brooke. As she rocked back and forth, she used one of her hands to pull my briefs down, so that her long hair brushed tantalizingly against my liberated cock. It was a wonderful feeling. At one point, Luke pulled completely out of her, and placed his wet, glistening cock in my mouth for me to suck. I couldn’t tell if the evident moisture was the lubricant, Luke’s sweat or Brooke’s anal secretions; it was probably some combination of the three.
I was my usual conflicted self as I took him in my mouth. Humiliated, certainly. Disgusted, no doubt. But also incredibly aroused, and somewhat grateful to be included to this degree in their intimacy – which was highly unusual.
My arousal only increased when Brooke said, “Keep him hard for me.” Following her command, I sucked him with increased fervor.
Whereas I often suffer from premature ejaculation, Luke is the complete opposite. He has the ability to go on and on, and then go on longer. It leaves me in awe, to be honest. Whatever I think of his personality, his character, his politics, his taste in music, etc., I can not help but be in awe of his physical prowess and dominance. I told myself, this man, this cock – which gives my wife so much pleasure, which fulfills some primal need of hers – is worthy of worship, so you better suck it up. Figuratively as well as literally. And that’s what I did.
He next ordered me to get on my knees next to the bed. Reaching his arm under Brooke’s waist, he flipped her over like a ragdoll onto her back, and entered her vaginally.
As if reading my mind, she said, “Yeah, baby, I’m your fuck doll.”
“Lick my fuck doll’s feet, cuck.”
From my knees, I licked her feet all over, listening to her moan in ecstasy as he moved in and out of her. Because of his good mood, perhaps, Luke was less brutal with Brooke than usual. He was forceful, of course, but there was no slapping and only a little hair pulling and nipple twisting. He did tease her, however. Even though I had counted at least three orgasms, I believe she was on the precipice of her fourth, when Luke pulled out of her. He hovered above her, his cock just outside of the threshold of her pussy. She thrust her pelvis up towards it, but he lifted himself still higher, denying her.
“Please baby, I’m so close.”
“You’re are a greedy, little slut, aren’t you?”
“Yes, baby, I’m your greedy, little fuck doll. Please baby, please put your glorious cock back inside me.”
“But you’re getting your feet licked. What about me?”
“Walter! Lick his feet! now! Please baby, please give me more.”
I started licking Luke’s left foot, hanging off the edge of the bed, with the same intensity I had applied to Brooke’s a moment earlier. He continued to tease her, however, inserting the tip of his cock into her and then stopping.
“Oh, gawd, Luke, please. I’m begging you.” She sounded on the verge of crying.
“I don’t know, babe. Maybe if my toes were being sucked, that might motivate me.”
“Walter, suck his toes!”
So, I did, of course. Luke was clearly enjoying the power trip of tying Brooke’s pleasure to my debasement.
Suddenly, he ordered her to get up from the bed. He then sat down on it, and instructed her to sit down on his cock, but facing outwards towards me, so that her legs basically rested atop his.
“Lick your wife’s pussy.” Following his command, I licked her just above where she bounced up and down on his cock, again grateful for the intimacy. Grateful to be included, even in my subservient, supplemental role as oral servant. After she screamed out in what was obviously yet another orgasm, Luke commanded me, “Now lick my shaft.”
After another five minutes or so, during which I dutifully licked him, Luke lifted her off him, stood up and – finally ready to ejaculate – pumped his semen prodigiously onto Brooke’s face.
“Time to kiss your wife, prof.” Which I did, our lips touching through Luke’s mess.
After I cleaned up and the three of us showered, we all watched a thriller on cable, the two of them curled up together on the couch, eating the popcorn I had made. I lied down on the floor at their feet, eating my own bowl of popcorn, occasionally feeling Brooke’s socked foot tousle my hair. All in all, one of the most pleasant evenings the three of us had ever spent together – at least from my perspective. Little did I realize at the time that that would be the last time three of us would spend together for awhile and that it marked a turning point in our – or, to be more precise – in Brooke’s and Luke’s relationship.
That night after they went to sleep, I practiced curtsying in front of the mirror in my bedroom in the basement. Tomorrow was to be my first extended service to Paul and Anna, apparently with my other student, Kelly, and her boyfriend as their guests. The next step in my ever widening public humiliation.
Whether he simply forgot, in the glow of his good mood, or was feeling particularly generous, Luke did not lock me back up that evening. I rubbed myself through my panties as I lay down in bed that night, too timid to actually masturbate lest Luke suddenly realize what he had overlooked.
The combination of my unsatisfied arousal and my anxiety about the next day prevented me from sleeping well that night. Luke was already gone when I woke up the next morning. Brooke was still asleep when I brought her cup of coffee up to the bedroom. I noticed my chastity cage on the floor next to the bed, and quietly took it downstairs to my bedroom, hoping she would forget about it.
She, in fact, did. It is testimony to how muddled my brain had become that I thought that was a good thing at the time. Normally, it would have been, of course. But it wasn’t until the snarky doorman gave me permission to go upstairs – after again announcing myself as the maid – that I realized how fraught with potential danger my situation really was. Because on our prior two meetings, my cock had been locked safely away. This time, I belatedly realized, my cock would be available as another toy for my students to play with, a toy they could use to control and humiliate me like they never had before.
And that, too, is exactly what they did.
submitted by Reasonable_Injury121 to cuck_femdom_tales [link] [comments]

2024.05.04 22:55 No-Instruction-1808 Take $50k out of my savings, or wait to save but stay unhappy

I have about $70k in savings. $30k is in a bunk Merrill edge account (don't ask, it was a last minute 'shit I need to put this somewhere' back in 2019 and I just haven't done anything with it.) $40k is in a savings account, also a 'shit idk what to do with this' back in 2019. Neither have profited much in that time.
I want to leave my partner and in order to do so need to pay him $50k to take his name off the deed to a property we own together. My work is commission based, so taking that out and only leaving $20k behind for emergencies is scary. I do have 2 rental properties aside from my own home which grants me $3k in passive income a month, but I have a 1 year old child + one of my properties is due for a new HVAC system this year, and the other I'm selling but have to dump $10k into before I list. I'm trying to crunch the numbers and it just leaves me in a really tight space.
He does not have $50k to pay me off with, so it's either this or sell the property which I don't really want to do. It's our only thing we own together and we are unmarried. I guess if I really think about it I'm paying liquid cash, but I still have that equity in the property so it's a win/win? Except the money isn't directly accessible so might be doing more for me in the long run than sitting in an account? Should I wait to save a little extra but stay in an unhappy environment just for the sake of $$?
Idk I'm nervous to hand that amount of money over but also really need to be done with this relationship and this is the only way I see it ending (relatively) smoothly.
Any advice on this situation as well as future things I could do with my cash would be much appreciated. I should mention all my homes are paid off and my net worth of properties is 1mil. I do also have an inherited Vangaurd pension that holds $250k. I may just be holding onto this cash because of anxiety and what not, or maybe I have too much tied up in real estate. Idk. First time posting on here so any help I'm grateful for. Also if someone says "you're fine just pay the $50k" that dose of reality is always appreciated too, lol.
Edit: Thanks for all the response. If there was ever something major I would of course take out a Heloc on one of the homes. I don't make a steady enough stream of income per month to afford payments on a heloc at this time, though. My main goal is to just pay it and be done with it, take the L live frugally until I can build my savings back up. Thanks for the words of encouragement and advice!
submitted by No-Instruction-1808 to FinancialPlanning [link] [comments]

2024.05.04 20:26 neomattlac DIY or hire someone?

My dad's house used to have an HVAC leak. He didn't want to replace the floor until it was fixed. Overall, that was a ten year project (my mom's health tanked and focus was shifted). My dad will be away for the next few weeks (Mom died, so he's staying with my brother until he thinks he can handle coming home), so I figured I'd tackle this project.
The top flooring can be replaced. I found something at Lowe's that'd match (feel free to suggest better value/quality options) pretty closely. Unfortunately, the house was built in the 1970s, and it appears that flooring is glued to the subfloor with no underlayment.
A few years ago, the beams under the house were replaced and the house was jacked up (it had sank in the center), so the joists and beams were inspected then and found to be okay.
My plan is to rip up the top flooring, replace the plywood (subfloor) as needed, and put in new flooring. It's a one-story house with a two-three foot high crawl space underneath. No evidence of termites in the past decade.
Questions: 1) Is this a job I can do as someone who has limited experience but is comfortable messing up (without injury) and comfortable around power tools? 2) Is $3000 a reasonable budget? 3) Do I need underlayment between the subfloor and the top flooring? 4) Was/Is it normal to glue the flooring directly to the subfloor? 5) Am I using the right words?
submitted by neomattlac to Flooring [link] [comments]

2024.05.04 20:06 SetLongjumping384 Need Help (Fresher)

I Recently graduated in mechanical engineering. Yesterday I got an internship offer that could be turned into a job based on my performance. Its a small company that provides HVAC installation and maintenance services. I will be joining from Monday.
The lead engineer who works there has sent me some drawings and data of a chemical processing plant to review before coming and he told me that my job is load calculation and duct design. I have basic knowledge of load calculations and know how of HAP software. I have used HAP for load calculation of a small residential building previously. But the pictures that i saw of that plant are really intimidating. It has a lot of machinery all over the floor along with large storage tanks and a lot of piping all over the plant. I dont know how should i approach this, there may be some things that i should consider, some errors that i might make. I dont know. I need some guidance.
Apart from that, for the duct design part, i know basic duct size calculation. But i dont know which method i have to use, which software?, the drafting part?
I know that i will do it under the supervision and guidance of the lead engineer, but from my brief conversation with him, i guess i will have to do most of the work and he will be just supervising.
So I need some guidelines from you guys, a road map of the project, and may be a word of courage.
Thanks
submitted by SetLongjumping384 to MEPEngineering [link] [comments]

2024.05.03 23:38 jd896 27 [M4F] #NYC - I want to be your boyfriend

Hey, it’s Justin again! I want to thank everyone that reached out with kind words about my previous post! I’m posting again because I’m still looking to become someone’s boyfriend. So why would I make the ideal boyfriend? (Hey y'all, this is the part where you can be my wingman)
I want to go on really fun, really cool dates. I love going to new restaurants and checking out new experiences. So if you're down to take it out of DM's quickly, let's make memories together! Otherwise, feel free to let me know how cheesy I am or if you got a cool spot for me to check out with one lucky woman
!unlock
submitted by jd896 to r4r [link] [comments]

2024.05.03 23:36 Thick_Cookie_7838 Is she trying to start up conversations again?

So a while back I went out with a girl on a first date. Nothing to crazy just went out for drinks. Things seemed to go well and when it was over she brought up the idea of going out again basically told me text her next week ( it was thirsday and we knew we had busy weekends so…
Well I ended up texting her and the response was I got back together with my ex sorry. Not sure I believed it but the message is the same regardless. But since then about a month and a half ago havent said a word to her vice versa
Well today I’m driving to work and I get a text from her asking if I know any home renovation companies - I work in construction so not a weird thing to ask but her response to me was kind of weird
I texted her back well what are you looking for? I don’t deal with companies I deal with individuals who specialize in certain trades. For example hvac guy, painter, tile guy ect. I responded more so because I like helping my guys find jobs and they help me out when I help them out
I didn’t think much of it but her response was kind of weird. She just liked my text didn’t give me any details of who she was looking for at all. It just seems odd to me someone would ask for people but then ignore answering what you need. Also the fact the person she would think to ask is a guy she hung out with for an hour almost two months ago
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2024.05.02 16:26 Grand_Theft_Motto The Graveyard Down the Street

I was walking our dog Charlie when I saw the graveyard for the first time. A little white fence, not even knee high, ran in a circle around maybe a dozen small headstones. There was space for a small gate along the fence but it was empty now, like a missing tooth. Whether the gate was removed or never existed, I couldn’t tell, but the rest of the fence was in good shape. It even looked freshly painted.
“What do you think, Charlie?” I asked, pulling up my hood.
The sky had been threatening rain all week and it was finally making good. The Weimaraner tilted his head at me and then looked off toward nothing. The fact that nothing happened to be in the same direction of the graveyard, well, I figured it was a coincidence. But dogs always know, don’t they? When something is bad and dangerous and hungry and close. Charlie knew, even warned me in his own way. A shame I didn’t notice until after most everybody was…after it was too late to do anything about it.
Nicole was hanging up pictures when we got back from our walk. I started unpacking one of the billion boxes scattered around the living room. It appeared to contain roughly four thousand dish towels and a single chipped coffee mug. Charlie watched us, patiently, filled with the usual, unshakeable belief that if he sat long enough and looked adorable enough, sooner or later, one of his owners would produce a treat. He was correct and it was my wife who folded first, tossing him a dried sweet potato thing which Charlie gratefully caught mid-air.
“Like the neighborhood?” Nicole asked.
“It’s kinda perfect. Lots of folks out and about, saw a few other families moving in, oh, and there’s even a graveyard in the middle of the development. You know, like how we always dreamed.”
Nicole made an “ick” sound but overall seemed happy.
I heard Bryan and Anna thumping around upstairs, most likely still arguing about who got the room with the attached bath. If they hadn’t sorted it out by dinner, I resolved to think up a weird game they could play where the winner got first bedroom dibs. It was still early in the afternoon, so I caught Nicole up on what I’d seen in our new neighborhood while we unpacked. We were far from the only new occupants of Stone Brooke; at least four other houses had SOLD signs driven into their front yards like stakes through freshly vanquished vampires.
The development was less than a year old and I doubted it would make it more than another six months before being filled to the brim. That was fine with me. It meant our property value would keep going up, up, up and away.
“Do you think we’ll make any friends with our neighbors?” Nicole asked, opening a new box to unpack.
“We’ll be having joint ski vacations and holiday parties in no time,” I guessed. “I’ll try to chat some up next time Charlie and I make our rounds. I’ll even knock on some graves, if you’d like.”
Nicole scowled and shook her head. A thousand teasing jokes about the living dead limping up to our house ran through my mind but each evaporated before escaping my mouth. Eight years of marriage had left me with a finely-honed sense of when to be a clown and when not to push it. And, the truth was, I felt a small twinge of discomfort myself whenever I thought about the little cemetery. It was a family plot, old; would the bodies even be embalmed? Or would you find something rotted down to tar and marrow if you dug up one of the plots?
I shivered.
Nicole smiled. “Looks like maybe somebody just walked over your grave.”
“Not possible. I’m not leaving a body behind when I go, remember? Viking funeral? Have my brother launch fire arrows at a gasoline-soaked canoe with me in it. And then scatter the ashes somewhere meaningful,” I added. “Like the Grand Canyon or the ocean or the last Blockbuster on Earth.
Nicole called for Anna and Bryan and we sat down to a family dinner of move-in-day sandwiches and popcorn and whatever other road-trip snacks we still had from the drive. It was a good night. Bryan was distracted by his phone, a new friend or a girl maybe. Anna was joking with Nicole about something…something to do with school. I can’t remember what, exactly. I really wish I could.
That was the last time we all sat down together as a family for dinner.
I woke up in the middle of our first night in the new house. Some outside sound had entered my dreams. What was it? A whispering or a knocking or rasping. No, not rasping–rustling. Like the sound of many things moving at once but moving quietly, carefully, deliberately. I sat up in bed, blinking against the total darkness of the room.
There it was again; the rustling. Faint and far away, I guessed, but it was so eerie that I could hear it at all.
“Hey, Nicole,” I whispered. “Hey, are you awake?”
Nothing in response other than that rustle again in the dark. It sounded like it was coming from somewhere below me. I got up and stumbled through the room without turning on a light. I don’t know why I didn’t wake Nicole up to listen; I wish I had. I guess I didn’t want her to think I was crazy if I was the only one who heard the sound.
The rustling was actually fainter when I finally made it downstairs. There was only a little light in the house spilling in from outside through half-curtained windows. I paused on the second to last step down and listened. The noise was moving away, growing softer and less frequent. By the time I stepped on the living room rug, the night was silent.
I waited, listened for almost a full minute, then started padding back up the stairs. There was something unsettling about the rustling that made me glad it had stopped. I’d watched a Civil War documentary a few years back and they demonstrated how a battlefield surgeon would operate by sawing through a half a pig carcass then sewing up the wound. They’d pushed in real close during the last part of the demo so you got a great look and even a great listen..
The rustling I’d heard outside the house that night reminded me of the sound of the needle and thread slithering through the pig’s flesh as the surgeon closed the cut.
Wind, I thought. Dream. HVAC system. The first signs of a brain tumor. But probably just the wind traveling through the branches of the maple trees that line our street.
There’s a landing at the top of the stairs with a big window that looks out over the front yard. A silver-gray column of moonlight fell in through the glass, giving enough light to make out a shadow standing on my lawn but not enough to see it clearly. It was a man, tall but a little bent. I remember thinking maybe he was hurt so I moved closer to the window for a cleaner look.
The guy was right at the edge of my yard, nearly in the road. He was facing my house but I couldn’t pick out any details about him. Too many clouds and moonshadows for a good look at his face. We both stared at the other for a minute then the stranger turned and began to walk away. Or, ‘walking’ isn’t entirely the right word. He moved like a man who had just learned to walk and he almost, almost had it figured out.
His knees threatened to collide more than once and he was moving with a limp, favoring his right side. I watched him fall over twice, each time dragging his body along the road for a dozen yards or so before shakily standing up and continuing on like a shell-shocked soldier wandering out of a trench. Each time the man got near a streetlight he would veer away from the glow, stumbling back into darkness and always moving toward the treeline that marked the edge of the woods around our neighborhood.
I stood, frozen in the moonlight, as the night visitor slipped into the forest, movements jerking like a puppet with stiff strings. Then the figure was gone and I was left blinking, wondering if I was dreaming or maybe this was what sleepwalking felt like. It didn’t seem real, any of it; not the rustling, not the man in the yard.
Once I was back in our bedroom, I considered waking up Nicole. But what was I going to tell her? Hey dear, sorry to startle you, I think there was a zombie outside our house. Or maybe just a creepy neighbor. Or maybe your husband is just going slowly, gently, completely crazy. Before getting back into bed, I went and lifted the corner of the curtain on the window, peeking out at the last spot in the treeline where I’d seen the weird guy slip away.
I’m not sure what I was expecting; some trail of destruction, maybe, like Godzilla’s wake on his way to Tokyo. But there was nothing, no sign, no proof there was ever anything at all. Just the sleeping neighborhood, tucked away in the middle of silent woods. The trees were slick with the day’s rain but that would all freeze overnight if it hadn’t already. Streetlights stood out like nails driven into the night, these little bright scars in the dark. I followed the line of them from where it ended at the road back to where it started at the center of the house development.
The graveyard sat high on a hill there at the heart of the neighborhood where the lights started. Or ended, I guess.
I tried to put the bizarre experience out of my mind and laid back in bed next to Nicole.
Charlie and I were on another walk first thing the next morning when we saw another moving truck. This time, however, it looked like the family was on their way out. We stood under a tree watching the movers buzzing back and forth, big, quiet men with thick black belts around their stomachs. The departing family was helping, a man and woman with three three little boys. There was something about the way the parents were behaving that made me stop and observe everybody for a little longer than I usually would, especially with Charlie trying to pull on his leash to go after a Canadian goose.
The adults were zipping boxes from the house to the moving van at warpspeed, almost like they had a deadline. At the same time, both the man and the woman looked so exhausted I was surprised they were standing, much less zipping around like hummingbirds that learned how to drink coffee. They eventually noticed me and Charlie standing across the street, so I waved and walked over.
“Howdy neighbors,” I said, unleashing the most cheerful grin I could drag out.
The couple stopped moving boxes. They stood together, between me and their kids, and I got the unexpected but absolutely unshakable idea they were scared of me. Or, at least, awfully interested in me keeping my distance from their children.
I tried to smile even more disarmingly but it probably went in the other direction.
“We just moved in,” I said, pointing down the street. “How are you all liking Stone Brooke?”
The pair shared a look. They were both around my age, maybe mid-30s, and made an interesting pair. The woman was very tall, her face soaking in shadows cast by a gardening hat. The man was short and balding but muscled like a powerlifter. He took a step toward me and I instinctively tensed up.
“You should leave,” the man said, barely above a whisper.
“Okay,” I said, backing up, “I didn’t mean to-”
“No, I don’t mean here,” he said. “I mean this neighborhood. It’s not a good place.”
His–I assumed wife–was looking around the nearby houses while we talked. Something must have spooked her, because she took two steps forward and leaned in.
“Walter, we don’t know him,” she whispered. “He might be-”
“Okay, June,” Walter said, “okay, you’re right, you’re right. Buddy, I’m sorry, we don’t have anything to talk about. We’re out of here, hopefully before dinner.”
The couple turned away and walked back to their kids. Walter hesitated in his driveway, giving me one last glance.
“Listen, I’m sorry, you seem normal enough,” he said, ignoring the glare from his wife. “But you really should get out of Stone Brooke as soon as you can. We’ve only been here a week but there’s already so much…shit, if you are normal, you wouldn’t believe me. And if you’re not, well, we’ll be gone by tonight either way.”
Walter’s wife returned to his side, one delicate hand on his bowling ball of a shoulder trying to steer him away. She must have noticed my absolute confusion; the little bit of her face I could see from under the hat softened.
“If anyone knocks on your door after dark, you shouldn’t answer. Don’t go out after sundown, either. And if anyone you know starts acting…” She looked back at her kids. Two of the three were moving boxes from the house to the truck in a mini-conga line but the third, a little boy, was standing on the porch staring at us. “If anyone you know starts acting strange, just don’t be alone with them or let anyone else be alone with them. Do you understand?”
“Not at all,” I admitted but the pair were already gone, joining their kids next to the U-Haul.
The one boy was still separate from the others, still watching me and Charlie while we stood on the sidewalk at the edge of their yard. Feeling uncomfortable and confused, I gave the kid a friendly wave. He just stared until we left.
I tried to shake off the creepy encounter. Ten minutes of walking in the sunshine had me feeling fine in no time. Charlie and I took a loop around the rest of Stone Brooke then started heading home. I wasn’t planning on walking by the cemetery but that’s the way our route ended up winding. It was even smaller upclose; not the dozen or so gravestones I’d guessed the day before but maybe only seven or eight. The stones themselves were small and weathered. They were carved of something that was white once but had been sun-stained to a dirty gray. I couldn’t make out any names or dates from where I was standing just outside of the short fence. It didn’t feel right stepping into the cemetery to get a better look. I told myself it was respect holding me back from getting any closer.
Well, that and the fact that Charlie was not a fan of the area at all. He began whining as we approached the hill; by the time we were at the fence, Charlie was tugging at his leash, trying to drag me back toward our house down the street. And, weighing in at nearly ninety pounds of muscle and anxiety, he nearly succeeded.
“Easy, Charlie, easy,” I said. “We’re not going near the dead people.” He tilted his head at me. “Okay, we’re not going any nearer than we already are. I just want to look for a second, alright?”
It wasn’t alright. Not by Charlie’s measure. After about two minutes of trying to stand without getting wrapped up like an AT-AT walker by my dog’s leash, I surrendered. I took one last look at the graveyard before I allowed Charlie to lead us away. There were a few trees scattered among the stones. They were bare of leaves, which was normal for the time of year, but they were also stunted and sickly. The trunk of the tree closest to the cemetery gate appeared to be dry-rotted, its bark flakey and brown-orange in spots.
The last thought I spared the cemetery before leaving was that I didn’t like the faint smell I detected. Nothing crazy, it didn’t smell like death or anything dramatic; it was an earthy scent, like a field after a rainstorm but with the hint of something spoiled under all of it.
I let Charlie lead us home, walking quickly but not rushing. Nicole was up unpacking again when we walked in. The kids were still asleep. My wife had on gray sweat pants and my faded Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt. Her hair was tied up in a scarf. I remember thinking how pretty she looked, brown eyes jumping from box-to-box, looking for her next target, and smiling as she worked.
We spent the rest of the day just settling in, checking out the house, unpacking and playing games with the kids. Then we DoorDashed Chinese for an early dinner. I remember it being early enough that the sun was still out when it was delivered and just setting when Nicole took Charlie out for his evening walk.
Charlie returned alone half an hour later, dragging his leash and looking stressed beyond anything I’d ever seen from him.
“Hey, hey, buddy,” I said, opening the door he was scratching at. “Where’s your mom, Charlie?”
I stepped out onto the front porch, expecting to see Nicole running down the street after Charlie gave her the slip. But it was starting to rain and no one was moving anywhere I could see.
“Nicole,” I said loudly. “Hey, Nicoollle.”
She didn’t call back or come jogging down the road. My throat was feeling weird, so I swallowed then yelled her name, much louder this time. I tried to keep any tinge of panic out of my voice.
“Nicole!”
Charlie was sitting on the floor, still on his leash, looking up at me. He was whining so quietly I didn’t notice at first. I pulled my phone from my pocket and called Nicole. It rang for what felt like a few years before going to her voicemail. I tried again with the same result, then yelled out again, and then another call.
I felt it crawling up and over me, that panic, the anxious madness that you feel when a normal day teeters on the beam before falling into an awful damn day. That happened to me once before when I was in college and my uncle died suddenly in a car crash. I remember the phone call, the confusion, the resistance to the growing, unavoidable certainty that your life just changed in a terrible way.
My pulse was up and my stomach was cramped. I took a deep breath and called my wife for the fourth time in about two minutes. Maybe her phone was on silent. Maybe she was still out searching for Charlie?
In the rain? I asked myself.
Sure. She loves Charlie. She would look for him in the rain or a blizzard or a volcanic eruption.
“Okay,” I said out loud, “but after she couldn’t find Charlie, she would call me so we could all look. She would call.”
What if she was hurt?
The thought went off like a molotov in my mind, spreading until it was the only idea I could focus on. I pictured Nicole laying in some ditch or hollow with a broken leg, black sky pouring down on her. She’d call if she could, if that was the scenario, but if she couldn’t reach her phone for some reason, then she’d be counting on me going to find her.
I took Charlie off his leash and hustled upstairs. Bryan was in his room unpacking and Anna was sitting in a window nook reading. She looked up at me when I left the stairs and asked where mom was since she’d heard me calling outside for her. I told both of the kids that their mom was probably meeting some new neighbors and I was just going to pop out for a second to see if she needed anything. Anna was ten and accepted my excuse with a smile before going back to her book. Bryan, however, was thirteen and had a much better ear for lies. He gave me an odd glance but I smiled and promised I’d be back in two shakes.
Two shakes turned into nearly thirty minutes of me scouring Stone Brooke. It wasn’t a big development, maybe fifty or sixty houses spreading out in rings with the old cemetery in the middle. That was where the original farmhouse was when all of the land was owned by one family. I remember the real estate agent telling us that the day we toured the house.
It’s strange the places your mind will go for a distracting memory when your agitation is slouching slowly toward hysteria. I peppered my foot search for Nicole with frequent phone calls, which only resulted in stacking voicemails over voicemails. I scoured all three main streets, hood trickling with rainwater, my flashlight sweeping between houses and under trees. After an hour, I’d checked the neighborhood twice over, all except for the little graveyard. I wasn’t even trying to consciously avoid it but I realized I had.
The waist-high gate was unlocked and swung open when I lifted the latch, which was just starting to go to rust. I got the sense that the cemetery was once well-cared for and only recently had been more or less forgotten. There were a few weeds among the tombstones and a glass vase filled with nearly mummified flowers in front of one grave in particular but there wasn’t any sign of Nicole. The ground was soft from the rain but it was too dark to see much of anything. I did note that the entire hill was messy, more dirt than grass and quickly turning into pure mud.
“I hope none of the coffins float out,” I muttered, drawing my flashlight across the eroded markers.
There were lots of shadows and sunken places on the ground but nothing deep enough to hide a person. I walked home quickly, trying to stay a few steps ahead of the cold fear that kept flashing every imaginable horror that might have happened to my wife through my mind.
If I knew then what I know now about what actually happened to Nicole…the worst, darkest, most vile things I came up with, they weren’t even close.
I made my way home after the graveyard to tell my kids their mom was missing. Just the thought of starting the conversation was filling me with dread and a terrible guilt. They were children; how were they going to process this new, ugly thing? I’d do my best to summarize the situation for them and then I would call the police. That was the plan. Needing to wait twenty-four hours to file a missing persons report is a myth, I knew that. But the sheer surreal misery of the night was blanking my mind on what I would tell everyone.
Nicole went out to walk the dog right around sunset, so about 5pm or 5:30pm. Charlie came back holding his leash at 6:41pm. I remember the exact time because I checked my phone to see if there were any missed calls from Nicole as soon as Charlie appeared.
While I was walking up our driveway, I kept mentally rehearsing how I was going to break the news to the kids. Was there any good way to tell children their mom was missing? Should I inject optimism, sugar-coat, make promises? Or just be frank and completely honest and tell them I didn’t know if…
Not a thought I wanted to finish, even in my own mind, and I opened our front door still undecided how I was going to handle the next part. Then I saw Nicole sitting at the kitchen table playing cards with the kids and I froze. I stood there in the doorway staring until Anna noticed me and told me, look, mom’s home! I managed a limp smile and a nod.
My wife was facing away from me and when she turned in her chair, for an instant, I thought I was looking at a stranger. Then she smiled, really smiled, and it was just Nicole there, the same girl I’d met at a friend’s Halloween party fifteen years ago but now even more lovely. I grinned, still confused but nearly shaking with relief.
“Where were you?” I asked, attempting to sound calmer than I felt. “When Charlie came back, I went looking for you. I was worried that…well, I was worried.”
Nicole took a second to reply. Several seconds, actually. An odd look passed over her face, eyes closing, her jaw tight. Then she snapped out of it, whatever it was, and smiled wider.
“The dog had slipped away to chase a squirrel,” Nicole said. “I’m fine. We’re fine. We’re all fine. We just lost track of time. Sorry to worry you.”
“Okay but you could have called,” I pointed out. “And I called you.”
Another pause before she had an answer.
“I lost my phone chasing the dog,” Nicole finally replied. “And then we got all turned around and mixed up. New neighborhood, you know? Are you hungry?”
In our years together, we’d both gotten good at knowing when the other one was lying. That night, I genuinely could not tell. What she was telling me was plausible if not at all how I expected her to react to Charlie running. For that matter, it was already unusual that our dog would take off after a squirrel. And why would Nicole lie to me about all of it anyway?
But I pressed all of those concerns down into my chest and locked them there. It was a good night, I told myself, an eventful night, a terrifying night for a bit there, but now, everything was okay. We had all sat and played cards, then ate dinner, and then unpacked the last of our boxes before bed.
Nicole kept watching me all throughout the night. I acted like I didn’t notice. She was acting normal enough other than these brief pauses now and again, like she was stopping to think about what she was saying carefully. Her nose also began bleeding, which she stuffed with tissue, blaming the bleed on allergies. My biggest fear that night was she’d had a medical event or something and needed to go to the hospital. A fall turned into a concussion, maybe.
Or, God, a stroke?
Ultimately, Nicole wasn’t showing any signs of an emergency, so I tried to relax.
Still, I found myself watching Nicole for the rest of the night. She caught me looking while she was brushing her teeth. All she did was stop and smile at me. We laid down in bed and I immediately clicked off the light, telling Nicole that I was worn out. After a minute of silence in the dark, I felt my wife’s fingers on my shoulder. She pressed a fingertip to my neck and lightly brushed the space between my jawline and collarbone. It made me shiver; not in a pleasant way.
“Hey, that tickles,” I said, turning away.
Nothing for a moment and then her fingers were pushing against the back of my neck, not hard enough to be painful but not exactly comfortable either.
“What, uh, what are you doing?” I asked.
In response, Nicole kissed my shoulder. Or, it was half a kiss and half almost a bite. She didn’t break the skin but it was awfully close. I slipped away, putting space between us by rolling off of the bed.
“What the Hell?” I snapped.
Nicole didn’t say anything back. There was no light in the room, not even moonlight. In the blackness, I heard my wife shifting in bed.
“Nicole?”
Still nothing from my wife and now she wasn’t moving at all. Seconds stretched out and all I could think to do was stand dully waiting for things to feel normal.
“I just remembered I need to send some emails back to the office,” I told the darkness. “I shouldn’t be too long. I’ll just be downstairs. Are you heading to sleep?” No answer. “Okay, love you, Nicole. Good night.”
I heard her shifting again as I was leaving the bedroom. It was louder than before, a rustling that reminded me of something I couldn’t place. Whatever it was, I wasn’t a fan.
I ended up sleeping on the couch. I had a dream that people were standing outside of our house trying to look in the windows. There was the rustling sound from earlier, like running water or wind through a forest. I woke up to find Nicole standing halfway down the stairs, silhouetted by the light from my open laptop. She froze when I looked at her, stared at me, then softly walked back up the stairs.
There was no more sleep for me that night. I stayed on the couch watching TV with the lights on until dawn.
Then there was tomorrow.
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