I’ve seen lots of questions about Stitch Golf Bags and other brands. Since I’ve had a Stitch bag for almost two years and they are local to my area (Holly Springs/Apex), I thought I would provide my review and honest experience (I have zero affiliation with the brand, as you’ll see through this review).
The Good: I received my Stitch Colorblock SL2 bag just under two years ago. The Navy and White pattern I received is beautiful, and I get compliments on it regularly. The fabric is high-quality; a regular wipe down with some warm water and a bit of fabric protector, and it looks the same now as when I first bought it. The magnetic ingot with my initials on it is a very nice touch too. I walk 18 holes on average 1-2 times a week (minus the winter) at a very tough walking course (9 miles, 20+ flights of stairs). At first, I was critical of the lack of space within this bag; however, after a while, I realized that being restricted to a water bottle, my rain cover, tees, balls, and ball marker made my bag lighter and the walk much easier (I just really had to debate whether I wanted to wear an extra layer or not because there’s no fitting it in the bag). The straps are comfortable, and I can clip my range finder and towel on. All in all, for those carrying, I highly recommend it... until the past few months.
The Bad: Over my almost two years with this bag, I’ve had zippers and feet from the stands fall off, but I’m somewhat handy and fixed these issues myself—no big deal to me. However, when I realized my grips were shredding a few months ago, causing me to replace them monthly, I took a look at the inside of the bag and found the full-length dividers were shredded with stitching everywhere. This caused clubs to go all over the place and rub on everything every time I pulled one out or put one in. This is where we get to a problem. This issue I cannot fix, but you’d think (or at least I did) a company called Stitch would stand behind their stitching on a $425 bag... You’d be wrong. I contacted Stitch and was delighted to get quick responses. Unfortunately, the response was that if the product is a day over one year from purchase, they will not offer any help. It doesn’t matter if this is a clear craftsmanship defect; they simply refuse to warranty a (very expensive to me) bag regardless of what happens. This hurt a little extra as this isn’t a big corporation but rather a local business from whom I’ve bought many shirts and golf towels in the past. Perhaps my expectations are skewed, and you are welcome to tell me that in the comments (again, I am just sharing my opinion).
Conclusion: Here is what I learned: Stitch makes a terrific-looking bag that is perfect for us traditional carrying/walking folks who enjoy a stylish bag. However, when you buy a bag from them, just know if anything goes wrong after a year, you are on your own. This review isn’t meant to bash or degrade a company but simply to give you my transparent experience and also ask a broader question: what happened to taking care of the customer?

 I never thought I would find myself needing to recount the events that transpired during my childhood. 

When the idea of typing this came about, I didn’t think I would even be able to find the words to describe them. However, maybe due to recent contact with the government, the memories I had long buried in the dusty recesses of my memory have dug themselves up and crawled back into the light of my mind’s eye in vivid detail. Now that I am free to speak, and now that I have summoned the courage to, my message to you, especially the parents among you is this, do not leave your children at Sunny Smiles Daycare.
I was about 4 when my parents divorced. It was a long, arduous process, full of broken promises and uncomfortable truths. My mother had left a year prior, off to Vegas to be with her lover who would fly over on weekends and destroy my parent’s of holy matrimony. It took quite a toll on my father. He was never very present in the going on of my life, and while he tried, an awkwardness had formed between us, a chasm that made it difficult to do much of anything. It was ever present, both of us trying to cope with the tender void left in the wake of my mother.
We tried to fill it with each other, but our relationship wasn’t strong enough to bear the weight of my mom’s departure. Adding on to this was that most of the day he was gone, working to keep the roof we had over our heads. He hired a slew of nannies to fill the empty days his job made, but I always complained about them. I felt like a stranger in my own life, with people I didn’t know making themselves at home in the house that felt foreign to me now. I really just wanted my mom and dad back, for them to come together, forgive each other in a heartfelt bout of passion, and make time for me in their lives again. But as a child, I quickly learned to stifle my hopes and stopped believing in such silly fairy tales.
My father felt guilty about the whole thing, I could see it in his eyes. Even back then I knew the look of someone trying their best and failing. It was the look my mother gave me every time she came home late on a Saturday night, a crestfallen look of disappointment in not me or my father, but herself. She had promised me that everything would be okay, that the fighting wasn’t anything but grown-up talk. “A family,” she said, “always stays together”. But soon, all I got was promises that didn’t lead anywhere. The two of them made so many promises that if they were worth anything, I’d have been the richest kid in the world.
But all I got was a trip to a daycare, a way for my father to remedy this guilt, to distance himself from the reminder of all the promises he had failed to keep.
According to his searches from the time, he stumbled upon Sunny Smiles Daycare in his search, seeing it was new, very close by. It had only been open for a month and had nothing but five star reviews, with no justification as to the rating under any of the comments. When looking at their website, it is described as a “government owned amenity here to serve families in need. We are expanding everyday, and with the help of certain patrons we have expanded to the national level”. According to the FBI, whom which I have spoken to at length about my experiences, no federal or state funds from any agency were allocated to construct a national daycare system. However, there is documentation from congressional records of a meeting of the Committee of Education and the Workforce passing an anonymous bill into Congress to be voted on. When interviewed, none of the members of the committee recalled voting on such a bill, and no record of whether the bill was ratified or not was found.
One night, my father called for me from the ground floor. I cautiously maneuvered down the long, spiral stairs, gripping tightly onto the railing so as not to tumble down the treacherous staircase, my fear of heights taking hold even at such a young age. As I rounded the stairs, I saw my father standing in the living room, hands on his hips, tapping his foot rapidly. He had come home in a gray suit, tailored to his filled out build, with neat, dark hair combed over to hide his large, reflective forehead. As I completed my descent, my father turned to me, a smile so wide that the strain was practically audible on his face. I didn’t think much of it then, if anything I was happy that my father finally showed me something other than his inner struggles.
“Hey buddy, guess what we are gonna do tomorrow?” he said, his smile practically bursting out of his face.
“What?” I asked, his excited expression acting as a pathogen of enthusiasm.
“Tomorrow, you're going to go to a new place. It’s called Sunny Smiles Daycare. It’s a place where you can make tons of new friends. Isn’t that exciting?” he led me on in the way that parents do. I was confused.
“Sunny Smiles Daycare,” I repeated hollowly, spitting the words out due to their funny taste in my mouth.
“Will you come with me?” I asked tentatively, bracing for disappointment.
“No buddy, they don’t let grown-ups like me in. It’s just for you kids. But hey, I bet you're gonna have so much fun that you’ll forget all about me. I bet you won’t even want to leave,” he promised, trying to redirect the impact of his answer. I had heard the same speech often. Every time he laid down some shiny new thing at my feet, hoping to placate me with sacrifices like I was some bloodthirsty deity, he tried to convince me that this time, the hole bored into my heart would finally be filled with this cheap, flashy toy. And for the most part, I went along with it, both to find salvation in something frivolous and to ease my father’s own guilty demons. And this was no different. In as excited a voice I could muster I replied “I can’t wait!” The smile he wore shrunk a bit, but in turn, it looked much less plastic, and more real, a warmth returning to his features.
“I’m glad little man. You hungry?” I nodded vigorously.
“Great, what do ya want?”
“Dino nuggets,” my favorite.
My father nodded, before rushing off to the kitchen in order to prepare a gourmet serving of dino nuggets. I followed, clumsily running to catch up to him, desperate for the warmth of his smile once more.
“How your day go?” I asked rather clumsily. I had learned the basic abcs and enough words to speak, but the construction of sentences was something I had struggled with. I rarely talked at all and didn’t get many chances to do so.
“It was great, bud! I talked to a lady at the daycare we are gonna go to tomorrow, and she said they have over 50 kids there! They’ve got coloring books and dollies and even a playground inside! They’ve got books and paint an-” I started to tune out. He was still trying to sell me on the whole daycare thing. That was all he talked about the rest of the night, describing every detail of the place to me. Looking back, even then, I felt a deep sense of restlessness each time he mentioned the name of the place. The feeling only grew more exacerbated the longer the night went on, chasing away sweet thoughts of sleep. Some of it was nerves, going from 1 stranger a day to 50 was certainly a big leap. But part of it was something I can’t explain in any other way than a premonition, a warning from a natural instinct that laid long dormant in me came screaming to the surface. I did not sleep well that night. The morning of, my father woke me up early, saying that he needed to get to work, but would drop me off at the daycare on the way. I obliged, changing out of my Lightning McQueen onesie into tiny jeans and a brown and white striped shirt with a large smiling monkey face on the front. Monkeys were my favorite animal, mainly because they liked bananas just as much as I did. I did my daily duties of brushing my teeth, and messing around with my hair until I was happy with the ratty mess I had made. I once again fearfully journeyed down the stairs. My dad was tapping his foot at the bottom of the stairs, annoyance instead of excitement being the cause.
“Come on bud, we gotta get going or I’m gonna be late,”. he says, as if his meaningless deadline would incentivize me to overcome my fear and move faster.
I reach the bottom step, where my dad promptly scoops me up in his arms, and with his briefcase and a backpack in hand, we speed out of the house. We fly down the stairs leading down from the large wooden porch, my father gripping onto the black metal railing so as not to slip on the cliff-like stairs. He snaked through the cobblestone pathway that led from our stairs to the driveway. Both were in rough condition. Crabgrass riddled the grooves in the path, and the asphalt had long, outstretched cracks that had formed due to the roots of a nearby sycamore tree undermining the pavement. The lawn was an unkempt jungle of overgrown grass, weeds, dandelions, and mushrooms. Dad used to mow it once a week in the summer, but the habit had fallen off in the past year.
Dad threw open the back door of the red minivan, and quickly strapped me into the ragged, stained car seat. He clumsily struggled with the seatbelt, his inexperience with morning procedures on full display. He finally resigned himself, tying the belt straps together into a tight knot that compressed harshly on my chest. I remember my breathing being shallow during the majority of the ride. With me secured, he threw the backpack over next to me, closed the door, and got in the front seat.
“Dad, I don’t go,” I said. “I don’t like,”
“Why buddy? We haven’t even gotten there yet,” Dad asked, his voice rising in pitch, as he started the ignition.
“I don’t like,” I repeated, louder and firmer this time.
“Why don’t you just give it a few days, just two or three days, and if you truly hate it, then we’ll find a different place okay sweetie?” He asked, forcing his voice to smooth out, as we turned out of our bumpy driveway and started off. There wasn’t much I could do after that. He did not respond well to temper tantrums, and I knew that it would not end well for either of us if I started yelling. He was too jumpy, and didn’t have the long fuse constructed over many long nights of staying awake with your kid.
Once, I dropped a glass of orange juice. The glass shattered in a loud crackle, like thunder mixed with pop rocks, and they scattered away from the initial blast, in fear of the storm that was barreling down the stairs.
“What happened?!” my father yelled as he stomped through the house. I realize now that his shouting was out of concern more than anger, but as a child, it’s hard to tell the difference when someone is screaming at you. I looked up at him, fat watery tears streaming down my face as I bawled loudly, practically shouting myself.
My dad grabbed a handful of paper towels, and started roughly padding my fuzzy blue shirt.
“Are you hurt?” he yelled again, voice wavering. This only made my cries louder, bordering on hysterical now as I continued to blubber.
My dad grunted in strained frustration. He combed his hair frantically, eyes darting around wildly, completely overwhelmed by the scene before him. Unable to take my wailing any longer he leaned down, grabbed me by the arm, and shook me violently.
“Are you hurt!” He screamed, shocking me into silence.
I stood stunned. My dad quickly removed his hands from me, purple bruises welding up along my arms like bad tattoos.
“I’m sorry bud, I thought you were hurt and you wouldn’t answer me and I… I’m sorry. I’m sorry,”. It was all he could say. I made sure not to scream or cry around him from then on.
We drove for about 10 minutes, before a large, pastel building of soft blues, yellows, and greens came into view. I knew about 5 minutes before it came into view where it was, my face retracting further into the car seat, as if bracing for a bomb to fall.
It was a massive building. The front looked normal enough, a box almost entirely made of windows aside from the wiry wooden frame separating them, and the large fluorescent red door surrounded by a black wooden outline. This was partially obscured by large red brick pillars that held up a concrete awning. Behind that, stood a massive dome, like an igloo made out of yellow snow. Sun patterns covered the dome-like orange polka dots.
The building unnerved me. Something about it wasn’t quite right, like my father’s own strained smile. It looked like it was trying too hard, trying to look like what all parents wanted to see when they dropped their kids off.
“See?” My father said from the front seat, fake excitement dripping from his voice.
“It looks so fun!” he said. He was fishing for an enthusiastic response, but all I could muster was quiet indifference.
We turned into the lot, navigating through the crowded rows of cars, parked haphazardly. Every spot was filled. A long line of cars slowly advanced next to the concrete curve, advancing toward the dropping-off points. Other cars, though, stopped where they were, and removed their kid from the car seat. Some didn’t even have them in car seats, and simply stopped while the kids got out themselves. The kids looked scared, sad, and hurt, the latter of which I could identify with. It was the look I often felt myself giving when I was being forgotten or I was alone. The former two, I would soon come to know quite well.
As soon as the door closed, the car would speed out from the line and out of the lot. Even strangers were kids who walked from the parking lot. These kids all had filth-splotched faces, torn-up rags for clothes, thin hair, and hollow eyes. They walked slowly, without regard for the honking cars and disapproving looks from parents who had almost hit them. They didn’t even look up as they filed into the daycare. My dad chimed in.
“Oh poor kids. How can a parent watch their child go out into the world like that? Is no one feeding them?” He muttered under his breath in an angry tone. He hated seeing the cries of those who were suffering go unanswered, especially children. It was why he became a doctor.
The cars slowly moved, dropping their kids off one by one, some making more of a ceremony of it than others. Stifled tears, verklempt looks, and the all too familiar fake smiles were all congregated at the entrance to the daycare. Guardian to said entrance stood two women, garbed in an all-white dress, apron, and gloves with silver hair and peculiar white hats. It looked like one of those paper hats kids made, but it was made of cloth and like her, stood at stiff attention and bore an opaque smiling face. They were surrounded by a flock of frantic parents, each desperately commanding their attention with little facts about their special angle. Allergies, snack preferences, and in the case of some, medication were all conveyed with deathly urgency. Dad stopped the car, turning to me and smiling. Not an insincere one, but one of sympathy and comfort.
“It’s gonna be okay sweetie. I know this has all been so much for you, so thank you for being so brave with me,” he promised. I smiled back in turn, meaning it this time.
He then exited the car, came around to the backseat, and untied me from the car seat. He grabbed the backpack and carried me over to the cement awning that shaded the walkway.
He carried me over to the two ladies, past the line of fellow downtrodden children, and dropped me a few feet away from the crowd of squawking parents.
“Hold on just a second now sweetie, I’ll be right back,” he said. I stood awkwardly, trying as much as I possibly could to fold into myself as the limp bodies of my peers stumbled past me, all light-looking to have long left their eyes. One was different though. A young girl in a pink and red polka-dotted dress with an accompanying bow in her soft ginger hair to match. She was holding a small, beaten-up brown patchwork teddy bear with its left eye missing. The back of it was torn open, stuffing flopping out of it. Around her neck was a collar of raspy, raw skin, like some wild animal had tried to tear out her jugular with its claws. She had pretty green eyes which continued to glance at me as she passed. Right before she went through the red door, she hesitated, turned around, and quickly waddled over to me. She placed her face incredibly close to me, and I recoiled out of shock. I could still make out her whispers though, “When they ask, don’t tell,”.She quickly turned away, glancing back at me with worried eyes. I looked after her, confused and more scared than before. As my eyes wandered, I looked up to one of the women answering parental questions, and she continued to do so. However, her eyes were transfixed to the polka-dot girl, and once she entered the daycare, they shifted to me. It was what I could only describe as a friendly stare, or at least, one that appeared to be. She looked like she was sizing me up. I held her gaze for only a second, and wished I hadn’t even done that. I commanded my eyes to look anywhere, anywhere but the woman’s shriveled, pit-like eyes that begged for my attention. My eyes traced out the outline of the red door, slowly taking in each groove and scratch that thick coats of paint weren’t able to cover. As I looked above the red gate, I was greeted with words scrawled at the top in shaky black letters. I didn’t know what I said then, but looking back I do now. They read “Welcome to Home”.
“Calvin, come here!” my dad said, snapping me out of my awkward stare. I shuffled over to my dad, reaching out and clinging to his arm. Both of the silver-haired women turned to look at me, moving through the crowd of parents with polite “excuse me’s” and “let us pass for a moment’s”, all while not taking their eyes off of me. They strode over to my dad, one addressing my dad and the other bending down to my level, still staring at me. She bent perfectly straight at the hips, but went down no further, her face mere millimeters from mine. I shrunk closer to my father, who was seemingly too preoccupied talking about my peanut allergy to notice the creepy woman staring at his kid.
“What is your name?” She asked. I pressed even further away from her due to her voice, which scratched at my ears like sandpaper. I remembered what the polka-dot girl said, and did everything in my power to not give her an answer, instead tugging on Dad’s pant leg, pleading for his attention.
“What is your name?” She probed again, this time her voice only a supple whisper. I almost couldn’t stop myself as my name rushed up my throat like hot vomit I needed to choke back. It was like she had reached her hand into my brain and was massaging it, hoping to coax out an answer. I knew she knew already, she had heard my dad call it only a few moments ago. But she wanted me to say it, to hear the word escape my lips. I was afraid to speak at all because if I did, I knew my name would come out. I didn’t even know what would happen, but the visceral fear I had of what might happen kept my lips sewn shut.
I tugged more and more desperately on my father’s leg, but he didn’t even look at me. He was still talking to the silver woman about who knows what. Who knows what he was telling her?
“What is your name?” the lady asked again, this time grabbing my hand and squeezing it. I tried to yank my hand away, but her grip was vice-like. She clamped down hard, I was sure a bruise would form. Looking back now, she likely knew that out of what she could do then, that would hurt the most. My eyes darted around, my brain overwhelmed by a gut-wrenching fear that poured into me from the woman’s touch. It was so cold I couldn’t feel my arm anymore, and the numbing sensation was spreading quickly. I looked for anyone, any adult who could see what was happening and put a stop to it, but everyone seemed to be conveniently occupied with something else. Time seemed to slow down and warp, leaving just me and the woman in our pocket of isolation. Voices faded out into warped chirping. I couldn’t tell you what they were saying, but with every passing moment, they got louder and louder. Numbing fear spread all throughout my body, reaching up and crawling into my mouth and swelling my tongue, pushing back the scream that was clawing its way up my throat. My eyes began to go numb, and the tears that welled up froze over my eyes blocking my vision. They were being squeezed like oranges being juiced. My arms and legs froze and turned weak, brittle enough that a gust of wind would shatter them. Slowly, I could sense my heartbeat getting slower and slower.
“You ready buddy?” My father’s coarse hand tapped my shoulder, and the glass bubble of nightmares that surrounded me and that woman shattered. Time came roaring back and all the pressure inflicted on my feeble body vanished, and the woman hastily stood up. Tears sprung free from their icy barrier as I turned to my father and looked up.
“Hey, woah, buddy what’s wrong? What’s going on?” he bent down to me, clumsily wiping away my tears. All I could do was shake my head vigorously, lips still quivering. I tried to speak but I knew the woman was still staring at me. I could feel her gaze honed in on the back of my head like a laser. As long as her eyes were fixed on me, I didn’t dare speak. Even now, I feel dizzy, my name on the tip of my tongue.
“We see this type of display daily. Children and caretakers alike are so rarely prepared to be separate. It’s an emotional moment, but we have found that adversity only ends in growth and prosperity for the pair” one of the women says, a sugary sweetness now oozing from her demeanor.
“Don’t worry buddy, your guardian will be back, and while he is attending to his duties, you will have the honor of being a part of our family,” the other silver-haired woman says, turning to me with a toothy grin. Most of her words were too big for me to understand. Though, I doubt I would need to hear her speak to understand. The stares they would give us were all we needed to know what they were saying, and yet they still put us through the torture of their scratchy speech.
“We are extremely excited to meet you!” the pair said in unison.
“You sure you're okay, bud?” Dad asked again, still not convinced. With both of them looking at me now, there was no way I was saying anything. I sent a pleading look to my dad, hoping that my covert correspondence wouldn’t go unnoticed. But apparently, my own father didn’t know me well enough to see how shaken I really was. He gave me a final look of sorry, before he bent down, gave me a tight hug, stood up, and handed me the backpack. Then he began to depart
“Listen buddy I’ll see you tonight. I put all your favorite stuff in that bag okay? I love you so much.” His voice wavered a bit, coughing a bit to try and regain composure. He looked at me, torn, between what he wanted to believe and what he could see. All I could do was stand there and watch my father throw his only son to the wolves. He walked back to the car, buckled in, and gave me a final look of a wide smile with conflicting, tear-soaked eyes, before exiting the line of cars and driving off.
An overwhelming wave of dread washed over me as I watched my lifeline drift away. Questions raced through my head, “When would he come back? Would he forget to come? How long can I not say my name for?”
I could feel them loom over me, like unwanted shadows creeping through the night.
“Come, it is time for you to enter,” the lady said, the sweetness now draining from her voice and face. A reproachful look now adorned her face. She stiffly pointed to the door, likely knowing that the meaning of her words was lost on me. I turned and made my way into the line of children still marching towards the gateway, dragging my feet. The gate itself seemed to pull me closer like death reaching its hand out from a coffin. The two ladies returned to their posts beside the door, dutifully tending to the needs of apprehensive parents. They made a last call, saying “All parents must deposit their offspring to the daycare. Activities are about to begin”.

When my husband and I got married in 2013, we were both working full-time jobs plus significant overtime. We split household chores 50/50. The two most relentless chores (dishes and laundry) were easy to split because he hates doing dishes, and I hate doing laundry.
When he first did the laundry, he would put everything away as I was used to (hangers for clothes, folded sheets, etc) but all towels were simply thrown into the appropriate cabinet un-folded. When I asked him about this, he said that he doesn't fold towels because nobody sees them for very long anyway. I thought about this and decided I agreed. I asked him to fold the few that guests might access like the two hand towels in the bathroom, but otherwise, I don't mind grabbing an un-folded towel before a shower. I moved on, and that was our acceptable standard of care for about a decade.
About two years ago, my husband replaced his full-time job with a small business in the same industry. He does most of the work, with only one part-time employee to help. He schedules his jobs as needed and, as such, can moderate his own workload to his degree of comfort. He likes this freedom and has expressed that he is not interested in growing the business past this point. This business quickly began to bring in over 400% as much as we earned as a couple, and my husband asked if I would be interested in returning to the home so that we could reduce our overall workload, as I was bringing in a pretty small portion of our income at that point.
Although I was uncomfortable with giving up my career entirely, I did agree that it was silly for us to be under time constraints. I spoke to my employer, who agreed to allow me to work half-time from home if I would be willing to train a replacement for my full-time position, which would take about 6 months. I would then take over the majority of the housework to level out the labor in our relationship. We were all happy with this change.
Almost immediately after my replacement was hired and I started to train them for this change, my husband suddenly began to fold all the towels. I questioned it casually, and he said he just liked how they fit in the cabinet when they're folded. I brushed it off, not wanting to be paranoid or make any accusations. But now that I'm home, he gets irritated that I do not fold the towels.
So far, I have refused to do this. It's not a horrible chore to take over, but I feel like the timing is suspicious, and I feel manipulated. Why does the aesthetic value of the 2 seconds the cabinet is open not matter when it's his labor, but suddenly it's my labor, and it's worth the work?
I can't tell of I'm being petty by not doing this, or if he's being manipulative. To be clear, this is not a pattern, and I do love my husband, but I think he may be subconsciously discounting the value of my labor. AITA?

I’m from the USA and I usually wear a towel in the sauna but recently I feel like that’s too suffocating for my skin but I also don’t wanna go naked because it’s public. I’m wondering if anyone has any suggestions on what to wear. Maybe a bathing suit?

Sunday 19th May

• Flew on BA5 from Heathrow to Haneda. It started with a chauffeur pickup from my house and departure courtesy of Heathrow VIP in the Windsor Suite. I was there for about 90 minutes enjoying a light brunch. Then was swiftly lead through the private security room to my awaiting BMW which drove me across the upfront to gate C66.
• The purser met me on the jetbridge and escorted me to my seat 2K. Unfortunately due to a loose engine cowling we taxied halfway towards 09R and had to turn back for the engineers to check on stand. We were delayed for about 2 hours, but made up most of the time in-flight!
• The cabin crew this flight were phenomenal. Even though I have no status, my order was taken 1st (the cabin was full). The food was delicious although the fish could have done with a small jug of that sweet sauce!
• On landing the captain invited me up to the flightdeck for a few photos.
• Haneda had no lines (which I was very worried about) and was through immigration, baggage claim and customs in a few minutes.
• When I arrived at my hotel, I discovered I left my headphones on my seat. Luckily a quick email later and lost property found it and posted it to my hotel

Monday 20th May

• After arriving at Haneda, it only took about 10 minutes to get through immigration, baggage claim and customs.
• After dropping off my suitcase at Yamato luggage service, I headed to Haneda Airport Garden to get some lunch. My 1st meal in Japan was a delicious bowl of unagi (eel) at Unagi Yondaime Kikukawa.
• I then took the metro, which was very easy, to my hotel. I had already setup a Suica card on ht phone beforehand and topped it up using my Revolut Visa.
• Upon arriving at the Palace Hotel Tokyo, I was escorted up to the Club Lounge to complete check-in procedures. I was offered a welcome drink of fruit tea and a small sweet and hot towel. I was then shown to my room ( a Club King with Balcony).
• I rested in my room until dinner which I had at the hotel restaurant Wadakura. I opted for Japanese-style rolled omelet, Grilled sablefish with sweet miso and Matcha ice cream.

Tuesday 21st May

• After an early start and breakfast at the hotel Grand Kitchen, I had a private whole day walking tour.
• Managed to bash out a few big ticket items ... fire ceremony at Fukagawa Buddist temple, Nazu Shrine, Senso-ji Temple and Menji Jingu Shriine. Senso-Ji Temple was crowded but bearable, no more then a busy shopping mall in London. Yukiko, the guide, was excellent and knowledgeable.
• Lunch: Sobagokoro
• Returned back to hotel to rest. My luggage had arrived and was delivered to my room.
• Dinner: Sapporo Uogashi 57 Sushi Tokyo Station

Wednesday 22nd May

• Breakfast at the Club Lounge (on a sunny day I recommend taking it out on the terrace).
• Morning at Imperial Palace Gardens with audio tour.
• Then came back to my room for a rest and bought a few pastries from the hotel's bakery.
• Lunch at Yakiniku Like Jimbocho. Fun experience cooking your own meat but it ended up being a bit chewy.
• Came back to my room to freshen up.
• Shibuya Sky in the afteroon - definitely worth a visit but make sure you book well in advance. Took a little bit of time to find the entrance from Shibuya Station. Amazing views!
• Ramen Tour. Had the best ramen of my life and learnt a lot. Plus great to go into small ramen shops were I would be too scared too normally. Just myself and one other solo traveller.

Thursday 23rd May

• As I had to get up at 5am I had breakfast of some of the pastries I bought in my room.
• Morning fish market & sushi class. Amazing experience at both Toyosu and Tsukiji fish markets normally off-limits to the public. Then went to the chef's restaurant where I learned to prepare the fish we just bought and turn it into sushi. The chef was very kind and knowledgeable. But even though this was meant to be a group tour, I was the only one who booked.
• Returned to my room for a rest.
• In the afternoon was the police museum tour and met some friends for dinner.
• Got back to my hotel and forwarded luggage to Osaka.

Friday 24th May

• Up early at 4am. Checked Mt Fuji weather and it looked very promising. Breakfast of bakery snacks in my room.
• 04:59 Tokyo station (Marunouchi North Exit) - 06:10 Takao station (JR Chuo Rapid)
• 06:30 Takao station - 07:06 Otsuki station (JR Chuo Main)
• 07:24 Otsuki station - 08:05 Shimoyoshida Station (Fujikyuko Line)
• Brilliant hike through Arakura Sengen Park up to Arakurayama Summit. Even though I was there very early, there were still a bunch of loud tourists. Not sure where they cam from as they didn't take the train.
• Lunch at a small mom and pop place.
• Afternoon tea at A Happy Pancake Ginza.
• Returned to hotel for rest and was lazy so dinner was room service (wagu burger).

Saturday 25th May

• Breakfast in Club Lounge.
• National Tokyo Museum.
• Ate delicious pork tonkotsu in museum cafe.
• Walked up to Tennōji Temple then tried soy dango at Habutae Dango Main Shop. Wasn't a huge fan and pefer the sweeter colored dango (white, pink, green ones).
• Akahabara: Super Potato and Bic Camera (spent way too long in there!). It was hard to tell between girls wearing school uniform and actual schoolgirls!
• Dinner at Aman Hotel (amazing beef curry).

Sunday 26th May

• Breakfast in Club Lounge.
• Travel to Osaka. First time on bullet train. Comfortable, quiet and spacious.
• Visited Osaka Castle. But had to wait about 30 mins at the metro station for a locker to become free. Quick visit to Osaka castle and skipped ticket queue by purchasing ticket online. Nice view from top but very very crowded with lots of pushing and shoving.
• Checked into the Conrad Osaka (King Exec Corner Room). Very impressive views. Luggage had already arrived.
• Foot treatment in hotel spa (amazing views of the city).
• Dinner in the hotel in C Grill.

Monday 27th May

• Breakfast in hotel. Good choice in buffet plus a la carte dishes.
• Nara half day walking tour. Unable to book special train so had to take local one. Was with another Italian couple. Excellent half day walking tour of the must-see sights plus a delicious lunch. As I didn't have much time, this is a great way to see the temples and deer (Kofuku-ji Temple 5 Stories Pagoda, Todai-ji Temple, Kasuga Grand Shrine).
• Traditional Nara lunch at Kotoya.
• Dinner with friends.

Tuesday 28th May

• Breakfast in hotel.
• Universal Japan. Unfortunately most rides closed because of heavy rain. Entrance queue was about 20 mins. Made straight for Jaws, no queue. Mario Strawberry shortcake was delicious. Super Nintendo World - 15 mins queue. Mario Kart - 30 mins queue even with express pass. Yoshi - about 10 mins queue. Cafe - 40 mins queue. Food, especially dessert was decent for a theme park.
• Waterworld show cancelled all day.
• Hippogriff closed. Forbidden Journey was fun but got motion sick (20 mins queue). Tried butter beer and macaroni cheese after queuing at Three Broomsticks for 30 mins. Beer was very maple syrupy. Problem with restaurant there was no seats. So had to wait while my food was getting cold to get a seat. Got a wand.
• No dinner.

Wednesday 29th May

• Breakfast snack in room from 7-11. Forwarded luggage to Kyoto.
• I went to Ghibli Park today from Osaka. I was very worried about the travel there but it all went smoothly, apart from the Higashiyama Line being so crowded there was a long queue into the station. I got to the Park about 09:45 and headed straight for Valley of the Witches. There was a queue and I got in about 10:10.
• This part took around 1 hour to get around. The highlight was going inside the castle. Tip: skip the bakery line by going straight to the cart to the side where there’s no queue.
• At 11:00 I headed straight for the Warehouse, another queue and I got in about 11:15. I went straight to the cinema to see an exclusive shirt which was cute. Skipping the huge line to no face, I went straight into the exhibition. But as a solo traveller I didn’t feel confident taking photos. Then went to eat just after midday. There was about a 10 min queue and I ordered the miso cutlet pizza and passion fruit soda float. I had to wait another 10 mins for a seat while my food got cold. I complained to the staff but there was nothing they could do. I tried eating while standing up but was told off. After lunch, I walked about the rest of the Warehouse, the adult cat bus was cute and the exhibition room which some of the sets had very realistic plastic food, shame no photos.
• Around 13:00 I hiked to the Forest. Only spent about 10 mins there viewing the house. As this is my favorite film I was disappointed with there being little to do. I wish there was a forest maze or something.
• Had a brief pit stop at the tea house which was relaxing and peaceful.
• Then saw the rest of the areas, they are quite small so only spent about 10-15 mins in each.
• I headed to the station about 15:30 making some purchases at the shop on the way. FYI the outside shop has a small Totoro with leaf, while the Warehouse shop doesn’t. The Witches shop has a soft small Jiji cat.
• The most time was spent walking between areas and there’s precious little shade so I needed plenty of short rest stops.
• Rest at hotel.
• Dinner at Icharan Dontonbori (queued for about 10 mins). Walked around and saw temple kitties at Hozen-ji Temple.

Thursday 30th May

• Checked out of hotel.
• Breakfast on the bullet train to Hiroshima. Upon arriving, luckily found a large room full of lockers to leave my bag. Took sightseeing bus to the Peace Museum.
• Visited the Peace Museum this morning. Arrived at 09:30 and got straight in. Hired the audio guide which I highly recommend. Unfortunately the museum itself was chock full of school groups making it like Disneyworld. The museum is meant to be quite a profoundly moving and challenging viewing but any introspection or trying to take my time to appreciate the exhibits fully was impossible as it was too cramped and crowded. I was just swept along with the sea of people. People (both foreigners and locals) need to learn how to conduct themselves in a museum as it was a bit frustrating and took away from the overall experience.
• Went up to the viewing deck of Hiroshima Orizuru Tower. A bit pricey but fantastic views of the dome.
• Lunch at Ootoya Hiroshima Hondori Branch. The mackerel lunch set was exactly what I was looking for and the staff was super helpful. The matcha soy cheesecake was pretty good and the prices were great.
• Walked to Hiroshima Castle and wet to the top viewing area. Very busy with schoolchildren.
• Then took a bus back to the station.
• After collecting my bag, took the bullet train to Kyoto. Went straight to the Hotel The Mitsui to check-in. Luggage had arrived.
• Dinner room service: burger

Friday 31st May

• Had a lie in this morning.
• Lunch: room service pizza
• Sake Brewery & Tasting Tour. Great tour of the museum and had a fantastic tasting of about 20 different sakes! But even though this was meant to be a group tour, I was the only one who booked.
• Returned to hotel to rest.
• Dinner at Coco Curry and bought few snacks next door at Daily Qanat Izumiya.

Saturday 1st June

• Breakfast of snacks bought last night. Early train to Kibuneguchi Station (not too many people so got a seat) then a short bus ride (luckily was 1st one on as bus became very packed) to Kifune.
• A short walk up to Hirobun. 09:30 joined short queue (about 10 people in front). 10:15 paid at booking desk. I was no 8. 10:30 sat down in waiting area. 10:45 moved to eating area, had 15 mins to eat. Noodles came very quick and I'm a slow eater so had noodles all over the table.
• Afterwards, I hiked over the mountain to Kurama Station (as it was the 1st station I got a seat but the train became very packed later down the line).
• Returned to hotel for a fantastic 2 hour spa treatment which really helped my aching legs.
• Had a Mos Burger takeaway for dinner.

Sunday 2nd June

• Breakfast of snacks in room.
• I got up very early to get to Fushimi-Inari for 5am. But shrine was busy with people even up to the top, so hard to take photos.
• I hiked about 11 miles from Fushimi-Inari to Keage Station, stopping off at Kiyomizu-dera (which was extremely busy). In between tourist hotspots, I was the only one on the path.
• Matcha tea set at 茶寮 器楽 near Kiyomizu-dera.
• Lunch of ham and cheese sandwich at Keage Coffee Shop.
• Returned to hotel for rest.
• Ramen tour in the evening. This was excellent and the guide was very interesting to talk to as he was a British expat.

Monday 3rd June

• Breakfast Experience in private onsen at hotel. Amazing onsen bath and delicious Japanese style breakfast.
• Forwarded luggage to Tokyo.
• Walking tour of Kyoto (Nijo Castle, Nishi Hogan-ji Temple, Golden Pavilion).
• Dinner at Forni, in the hotel. Delicious food but portions a bit small.

Tuesday 4th June

• Breakfast at hotel.
• Zazen Meditation & tea ceremony experience at Daitoku-ji Temple. A once in a lifetime experience being introduced to zazen meditation by a proper monk and being served light matcha in a tea ceremony in an original wooden tea house. Very thoughtful, intimate & warming environment. Both the monk and our interpreter were very welcoming & friendly. Would recommend to others 10/10 & book again with Wabunka.
• Lunch at Kikukawa (eel) at Kyoto Station.
• Bullet train and check in Palace Hotel. Luggage had been placed in my room.
• Dinner at Zauo Shibuya. Fun to catch the fish and deliciously cooked.

Wednesday 5th June

• Breakfast at hotel
• Quick visit to Dotokuji Temple than Yushukan Museum. Interesting museum but found myself googling bits as a walked around to get better context, as the museum presents information from an interesting perspective.
• Lunch at Yasukuni Yachiyo Shokudo (egg and rice shop specialty).
• Ippodo Marunuchi for a wonderful tea experience.
• Back to hotel for a rest.
• Dinner at Teppaynaki Go in the hotel. Had the best bef I've had in my life (Matsusaka beef filet 100g).
• A quick cheese and cocktail at the hotel bar.

Thursday 6th June

• BA6 from Haneda to Heathrow. One couple in front of me at First class checkin. The First & Business class line was very awkward as I was the only one in it and it merged with everyone else so had to push my way into the queue. Security took only a few minutes but I had to take my shoes off for some reason, even though no-one else did. It was good that I didn't need to take electronics out my bag though.
• JAL First lounge was practically empty even though the First cabin was full. Not sure where all the other passengers went! Highly recommend trying the JAL curry.
• Boarding was somewhat well organised with separate queues for Group 1 and 2. Flight was 2 hours delayed due to a technical fault.
• Had a pleasant crew and delicious food (smocked sea bass, grilled saikyo red snapper, belgian chocolate mouse cake). 2nd meal service after a short nap was grilled chicken ballotine and green tea tiramisu.
• Upon arrival at Heathrow, I was met on the jetbridge by a representative and escorted down to the car on the tarmac. After a short drive to the Windsor Suite, immigration was done in seconds as I handed my passport over to the friendly officer in a window. Then escorted to the suite, had a quick dinner (delicious sea bass) and a BWM i7 chauffeur to home.

Overall thoughts

How does everyone get around the daunting task of ironing out their finished projects? I watched my mum use tea towels or a bath towel before but I’m petrified something is going to go wrong so I lay my Aida on something flat and leave it - which does nothing 🤣🤣
Any advice would be great! 😊

AN: i sed stup flaming up fistz! c if dis chaptr is srupid!1111 it delz wit rly sris issus! sp c 4 urself if itz ztupid brw fangz 2 ma frend u/paliconoclast 4 hleping me!
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“NO!” I screamed. I was horrorfied! S'hadow Heart tried to comfort me but I told her fuck off and I ran to the temple crying myself. Cheteric Thorn chased after me shouting but he had to stop when I went into my room cause he would look like a perv that way.
Anyway, I started crying tears of blood and then I slit the two lesbians I saw walking by. Their blood got all over my clothes so I took them off and jumped into the bath angrily while I having a victim screaming at full volume. I grabbed a steak and almost stuck it into my heart to commit suicide. I was so fucking depressed! I got out of the bathtub and put on black low-cut sleveless with lace all over it sandly. I put on black tight leather pants and six pairs of skull earrings. I couldn’t fucking believe it. Then I looked out the next room and screamed… Baltazr was spying on me and he was taking a video tape of me! And Koreella was masticating to it! They were sitting on the stairs.
“EW, YOU FUCKING PERVS, STOP LOOKING AT ME NAKED! ARE YOU SCALIES OR WHAT!” I screamed putting on a black towel with a picture of Sarevok Anchev on it. Suddenly Vampire ran in.
“Hick Niss!” he yelled at Balthazar and Koreella pointing his womb. I took my gun and shot Balthazar and Koreella a gazillion times and they both started screaming and the camera broke. Suddenly, Keteric Thorn ran in. “Durge, it has been revealed that someone has - NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” he shouted looking at Balthazar and Koreella and then he waved his warhammer and suddenly…
Helisk ran outside on the stairs and said everyone we need to talk.
“What do you know, Helisk? You’re just a little Baldur's Gate diabolist!”
“I MAY BE A BALDUR'S GATE DIABOLIST….” Helisk paused angrily. “BUT I AM ALSO A BHAALIST!”
“This cannot be.” Baltazr said in a crisp voice as blood dripped from his hand where Keteryck’s warhammer had hit him. “There must be other factors.”
“YOU DON’T HAVE ANY!” I yelled in madly.
Koreella held up the camera triumelephantly. “The lens may be ruined but the tape is still there!”
I felt faint, more than I normally do like how it feels when you do not kill enough people.
“Why are you doing this?” Koreella said angrily while she rubbed her dirty hands on her clook.
And then I heard the words that I had heard before but not from her. I did not know whether to feel shocked and happy or to bite her and chew her meat because I felt faint.
“BECAUSE…BECAUSE….” Helisk said and she paused in the air dramitaclly, waving her hands in the air. Then swooped she in slashing to the style of a bhaalist version of a member of the Guild.
“Because you’re baallist?” Baltazr asked in a little afraid voice cause he was afraind it meant he was connected with Bhaal.
“Because I LOVE HIM!”

Ever wondered if your cat needs a bath? It’s a question that has puzzled pet owners for ages. Cats are notorious for their cleanliness, often spending a good portion of their day grooming themselves. But is their self-care routine enough to keep them squeaky clean, or do they occasionally need a little help from their human friends? Let’s dive into the world of feline hygiene and uncover the truth about whether cats need baths.

The Natural Groomers

How Cats Keep Themselves Clean

Cats are natural groomers, equipped with a built-in cleaning kit. Their rough tongues act like tiny brushes, efficiently removing dirt and loose fur. This self-grooming habit not only keeps them clean but also helps regulate their body temperature. Moreover, grooming serves as a way for cats to relax and unwind, akin to a feline spa day. However, even the most meticulous groomers might need a bit of assistance now and then.

When Bathing Becomes Necessary

Situations That Call for a Bath

While cats do a stellar job of grooming themselves, certain situations might warrant a bath. For instance, if your kitty has gotten into something sticky or smelly, a bath might be the only solution. Similarly, older or overweight cats might struggle to reach certain areas, leading to potential hygiene issues. Additionally, certain medical conditions or infestations, like fleas, can make a baths necessary to ensure your cat’s health and well-being.

Bath Time Basics

Preparing for the Splash

Bathing a cat might sound like a daunting task, but with the right preparation, it can be a smooth process. First, gather all the necessary supplies: a gentle cat-specific shampoo, a pitcher for rinsing, a non-slip mat, and a few towels. It’s also a good idea to trim your cat’s nails beforehand to avoid any accidental scratches. Choosing a calm, quiet time can make the experience less stressful for both you and your feline friend.

The Step-by-Step Bath Guide

Making Bath Time Fun and Easy

Ready to give it a go? Start by filling the sink or tub with a few inches of lukewarm water. Gently place your cat in the water, using soothing words to keep them calm. Wet their fur thoroughly, avoiding the head area, and apply the shampoo, lathering it gently. Use the pitcher to rinse thoroughly, ensuring no soap residue is left behind. Finally, wrap your kitty in a towel and dry them off, giving them plenty of praise and maybe a treat or two for their cooperation.

Alternative Cleaning Methods

No Water? No Problem!

If the thought of bathing your cat sounds like a Herculean task, there are alternative cleaning methods that can help. Dry shampoos and pet wipes can be effective in cleaning your cat without the drama of a baths. These products are specially formulated to be safe for cats and can help remove dirt and odors. Regular brushing is also a great way to keep your cat’s coat clean and reduce shedding.

Post-Bath Care

Keeping Your Cat Comfortable

After the bath, it’s important to keep your cat warm and comfortable. Use a soft towel to gently dry their fur and, if necessary, use a hairdryer on a low, cool setting to speed up the drying process. Ensure the room is warm and free from drafts. Your cat might want some quiet time after the ordeal, so provide a cozy spot where they can relax and groom themselves back to their usual pristine condition.

Hi. I have a three month old car that I just noticed the oddest almost soot like stains on the front of the hood and a little bit on the mirrors and a little bit on the leading edge of the roof over the windshield.
It's not coming from my engine bay, I don't know what I might've driven through it almost looks like diesel soot streamed up and over the car car.
Rubbing it with my finger and a little spit I could see it mostly came off so I gave it a gentle wash and it looked OK at first and then I noticed if I looked closely that there were still odd patterns of stains, mostly on the front of the car below where the hood opens which on my car appears to be plastic (2023 WRX).
I tried handwashing it with a microfiber towel, and it almost all came off but it's still there. You can't see the patterns from a distance, but the whole section looks a bit off. Up close you can see that it's not consistent but it's definitely odd and discolored in strange patterns. So I scraped at a little bit with my thumbnail and that finally took it off and the bright white paint was beneath it. But I don't want to fuck it up.
I don't expect anybody to tell me what the hell it is without seeing a picture, but I was hoping somebody could tell me if there's some super super gentle polishing compound that won't damage clearcoat that I could use to try and take this final light bit off with.
Thanks, and I hope it's OK to post here even though I'm not a detailer obviously. I don't know what else to ask.

Very first post! Hope y'all enjoy. Part 0 of the lifecycles universe.
>> Lifecycle start…
Our universe is 13.7 billion years old. Where are the aliens?
>> South Pole Observatory, Antarctica
Being out under the stars gave Rolan Orlov plenty of time to think. He looked up from his lunch and out the floor-to-ceiling windows, at the streaks of white outside, each one a star, zooming past like a scene out of a sci-fi movie. For just a brief moment, he was on the bridge of some futuristic spaceship, shooting through the void at speeds defying the laws of physics.
Ka-thunk.
Orlov looked away from the window, the drab metal walls of the observatory cafeteria returning. At the end of the table stood a man with a camera, snapping away at the blizzard outside the window, the streaks of snow pelting the glass, highlighted against a black sky by the floodlights outside.
It was a view he had grown used to in his months down at the bottom of the world. Utterly unremarkable. Some may have found it captivating, like the photographer whose name he had forgotten, but Orlov preferred the views inside his own mind.
He poked at his lunch, a metal tray of microwaved alfredo pasta and a side of broccoli. The yellowing buds of the broccoli drew his attention. Being an astrophysicist, life was a mystery to him. The cells, hundreds upon billions of them, each with their own function, somehow combined to form something greater than the sum of its parts.
“Dr. Orlov?” The man had apparently gotten whatever photo he wanted and was now sitting next to the astrophysicist.
“Yes?”
“Do you really think anyone’s out there?”
“Out in the blizzard? Probably not.”
The man chuckled. “No, I mean out in the universe. Y’all’ve surely got models for that.”
“Oh? Maybe,” Orlov replied with a so-so gesture.
“What do you think they’ll be like? Their society, y’know. I imagine it’ll be quite different from ours.”
“Can’t say. Even predicting our own is hard enough.”
“Heh, yeah. I mean, all those moving parts, all the different people, all doing different things, somehow coming together to form the world we know today. I’d even say that it’s more than just the sum of its parts, and I don’t think anyone could properly comprehend how it all works, certainly not us.”
“Hm. Maybe try a systems scientist next time,” Orlov said with a chuckle. The photographer laughed, before declaring he had to go edit his shots, and got up from the table.
Orlov returned his attention to his lunch, forking up some pasta, but the broccoli caught his attention again. The soggy pieces were sitting scattered in their section. He couldn’t help but think about the 8.1 billion humans on the planet, and how similar they were to cells in an organism. Perhaps that was the next step of complexity in the ladder of evolution. Civilization.
Orlov smiled, before stuffing a piece of broccoli into his mouth. If civilization was truly like a multicelled organism, then it may very well have evolved elsewhere as well. He vaguely remembered reading somewhere that multicellularity had evolved 25 or more times independently, and that piece of knowledge gave him hope. Hope that civilization wasn’t just a fluke, a one-time occurrence limited to the face of the earth. Hope that one day, humanity would meet others amongst the stars.
>> Entropy Labs, Texas
Abigail Daneau’s career had been a roller coaster ever since the war started—with her job being the Manager of Web Publishing for a prestigious private research lab, and war being a strange way to describe the events of the last two years. It had started with cloud service providers going out of business, something that Daneau hadn’t thought much of at the time. When the divide between the numerous webnations started to flare up, she had simply picked sides according to the will of her employer. The rising real-world tensions between countries she had ignored, as well as the numerous articles and trend studies warning of all out war. It was when the attacks came, and entire data centers started shutting down, that Daneau had started to worry. Then went the DNS servers, and the world plunged into chaos.
Daneau now found herself sitting in front of a computer—an actual physical pc—typing in the ip address for the Öffentliche Datenbank der Internationale Open-Source-Stiftung. Clicking the “publish” button, Daneau sent off her article on the recent Starshot II mission.
Shutting off the pc, Daneau left the internet access room, air-gapped from the rest of the lab’s network. Crossing through a bright, glass-ceilinged courtyard filled with greenery, she reached the door to her office, and entered. The skylight bathed the entire room in a pleasant glow. She sat down in front of the display taking up a quarter of the side wall, currently displaying a lifelike image of a sleek rocket riding on a plume of white, frozen above a launchpad. The time and weather hovered in the corner. The lab had provided her with AR glasses, modified to use an unhackable wired connection to the network, but she hadn’t touched them ever since she almost died tripping over the wires.
Sitting down in front of the keyboard, she woke the wall display with a tap to the touch screen built into her desk. The rocket launch disappeared, replaced by the lab’s network login, which again promptly faded when the AI recognized Daneau. A familiar virtual desktop materialized as the display connected to the lab’s private servers.
Opening her favorite word processor, with the help of the central AI, Daneau got to work on her next article.
***
The 3 Futures of Space Travel
After much anticipation, the Starshot II mission to Proxima Centauri is finally underway—and already many are asking the eternal question: what next? Currently, there exist three promising possibilities, one of which has the potential to redefine the lightspeed barrier.
Self-Replicating Spacecraft
[TODO]
AI Generation Ships
[TODO]
Why go fast when you can go slow?
Project Dreamwalker presents an unconventional yet theoretically plausible approach that could reshape the trajectory of human progress. At its core, this audacious endeavor seeks to manipulate the fundamental nature of consciousness, slowing the speed of human thought to a fraction of its current pace. By reducing the velocity of cognition by a factor of 1:365.25 or more, Project Dreamwalker opens the door to a realm of possibilities previously thought unimaginable. Such an achievement could herald the most monumental leap forward—or potentially, a catastrophic misstep—in human history. If realized, this innovation could catalyze the establishment of a cohesive interstellar society, while decades-long voyages and communication gaps that once spanned vast stretches of time would be compressed into mere weeks, fostering a sense of unity across the cosmos. Indeed, Project Dreamwalker emerges as a beacon of possibility in an era defined by the pursuit of the extraordinary. As we navigate the uncharted territories of space exploration, its allure remains unmatched—a tantalizing glimpse into a future where the limits of human potential know no bounds.
[ELABORATE]
So what will it be? Would humanity go with the most feasible option, or would something as crazy as Dreamwalker redefine the space travel industry? In reality, technology for all three approaches are still in heavy development, and it is just as likely that the ultimate future of space travel would be neither of these.
***
Daneau got up to head to lunch, leaving the unfinished article on her desktop.
>> Gateway, Kenya
Walsh Angevin watched as the gleaming carbon composite skyscraper of a rocket lifted from the launchpad on plumes of fire. The status board on his visual overlay shifted. It was a flight like the dozens of others per day on one of the most popular space routes, the Gateway Direct. He himself had traveled the same route over a hundred times, and he knew it by heart: depart from Gateway Spaceport, break orbit into the Earth-Mars transfer trajectory, wait anywhere from 12 hours to 4 days, insertion and arrival at Gateway Station on the Mars Ring.
Except this time was different. This time it would be his daughter on the flight, and there was no return ticket.
A notification on his overlay alerted him to an incoming holocall from his daughter. He quickly acknowledged it, and the world around him was swept aside into the cabin of the rocket, brightly decorated in a clash of 20th century art-deco and 22nd century wood-and-metal. Sunlight spilled through the small windows circling the cylindrical room, shifting slowly with the motion of the craft. In the center a spiral staircase led to upper and lower levels, with a big number 3 painted on the central column.
“Hey dad.” Angevin’s daughter, strapped in a seat, looked up at him. She smiled faintly. Whether it was real or not Angevin couldn’t tell, but for what it was worth, she was the one who had called him.
“Hey kiddo.” He sat down in the seat next to hers.
“Do you want to take this somewhere else?” The view divided radially into multiple slices, each a simulated environment: a park, a sunset cityscape, a forest, a bar on some space station…
“No, this is fine.” The simulated views disappeared.
The rumble of the rocket filled the silence that followed. Outside the windows, the horizon had started to curve.
Angevin spoke up first. “I would give anything to be here with you, I hope you know that.”
“Yeah, I know. Dad, stop worrying about me. I’m not a kid anymore. You should be calling me Doctor Emilia.”
“Always the tough one, aren’t you?”
“I have to be.”
“The slowdown process is perfectly safe, you know that. It’s been thoroughly tested, and the only reason we’re not giving it to the wider population is because the logistics—”
“That’s not what I’m worried about. If anything, I trust your work even more than you do. It’s the mission itself I’m worried about. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to be the first person in a hundred years to leave the solar system or anything.” Sarcasm. That was a good sign.
“You’ll be with the rest of the crew. I’m sure all of you together can figure it out. Besides, Connor Atwell and the Starshot 7 bunch did the same thing a century ago.”
“Atwell came back.”
The roar of the thrusters dropped an octave as the craft switched to its vacuum-optimized engines. The shadows in the cabin shifted as the rocket slowly reoriented itself. A notice appeared on Angevin’s overlay, notifying him that the call connection was going to close soon. He reached over and placed his hand on his daughter’s. For a moment their eyes met. Inside Emilia’s pupils Angevin saw nothing but the wall behind him. He looked away.
“Goodbye, Emelia.”
“Goodbye.”
The connection cut off, and Angevin found himself back in the spaceport terminal. He sighed. “See ya kiddo. Now go make us a new home among the stars.”
With a mental command, the terminal faded, replaced by the familiar view outside Angevin’s office window. The buildings of the Dreamwalker Initiative headquarters sat surrounded by fields of grass, backdropped by historic starscrapers looming on the horizon.
Regardless of his wishes, the world went on, and the world needed him…
He would give anything to be with his daughter.
Some things weren’t his to give.
>> Orion-Cygnus 087*159*300/01 Sebastian Wang, Field log no. 1064. 2 local/13 standard days after arrival on this alien world.
It’s quiet out here on the frontier, 444 lightyears from Sol Actual. Today the cloudstorm has finally broken, just as the superintelligence predicted. I’ve given control of the drones to the SI. I’m printing a new avatar specifically adapted to this planet because I’m going to head outside myself today and do some sightseeing. I’m stuck here for the next 22 local/149 standard days for a full orbital rotation anyways as the SI collects data.
I still need a name for this planet.
***
Wang watched as the grassy blue-green stalks swayed in the insistent wind, and entire rolling hills seemed to shimmer in a moiré pattern. The bright cyan sky filtered the light of the blue-white star into a gentle yellow glow, high in the sky, casting soft shadows that shrouded the landscape with a dreamlike quality.
He waded forward, pushing through the thick, electrically charged hydrogen atmosphere. He had constructed his avatar with an increased sense of the atmospheric electricity, and it was like a whole new sense—electromagnetism was one of the most important senses on this planet, perhaps even more so than sight. Cresting a hill, a grove of tree-like organisms appeared, behind which stretched what could only be described as a lush alien forest. The hues of blue, green, and splashes of red were captivating.
The life on this alien world had always been fascinating to Wang. It was an entire ecosphere based around electricity. The flora channeled it, stored it, filtering the positive ions out of the atmosphere, leaving behind free electrons. The fauna breathed it like the humans of old breathed oxygen, using it to power their cells. Their bodies acted like massive batteries, the efficiency and capacity of which rivaled the best human technology.
Then there were the mechanisms by which these flora and fauna worked. In the place of traditional chemical reactions were a mishmash of electrochemistry and quantum effects. Some even extended this to the outside world in various ways, directly rearranging matter in ways not unlike modern matter-printers.
Even more confounding was the interconnectedness of everything. Underneath the surface and in electrical currents throughout the atmosphere, there ran what could only be described as a massive neural network, as if some cosmic entity took the mycelium networks of Earth and turned it up to a million.
It was the physical manifestation of a technological revolution, all brought on by the force that is evolution.
Wang strolled into the grove of alien trees, with vine-like organisms climbing up their trunks. The canopy, incredibly varied with leaf-like structures of various sizes, were lined with what seemed like massive flower buds.
As he entered a small clearing, a current of electricity spiked in the ground where Wang stepped, spread out, tracing previously invisible lines, pulsing into the trees. In a burst of red the thousands of flower buds around him unraveled, each one like a shining spotlight, all focused on himself. An electric buzz permeated the air.
Wang absentmindedly confirmed that his Synchronized Upload-on-Death System was properly entangled to the orbital vaults. Striding up to one of the giant splotches of red, half a meter across, he reached out and touched a petal. The flower had an immense positive charge, something that was invaluable to the many organisms that inhabited the alien forest. Again he was struck with the sheer cohesion of the ecosystem: the plants, according to the superintelligence’s analysis, received no direct benefit from supplying supercharged “food” to the animals, and yet they did. The timescales needed for something like this to evolve—it would make the best algorithms question the established theories of evolution.
Taking his hand off the flower and stepping back, the dome of red swiveled to follow him, as if waiting for him to do something. He chuckled. “I don’t got batteries to charge, you guys can leave me alone.”
For some reason, it was as if the flowers had heard him, and were now cocking their bright red heads in confusion. After a few more seconds, they hesitantly closed.
What he did not expect was the massive spike of electricity that spread out from the clearing and out into the forest. “Woah—”
He mentally moved to bring up the real-time map of electrical currents throughout the planet, but the superintelligence beat him to it. What he saw was nothing short of amazing: the entire globe was lit up, current moving out from his location, traveling through winding paths with intent. It was a chaotic pattern, governed by some unknown rule.
Just as suddenly as it had started, the electrical fluctuations subsided to its usual levels, although the superintelligence noted that the patterns had slight differences to the data previously recorded.
Taking his attention off the map, he saw a single flower at the edge of the clearing in front of him. It was a bright cyan-blue one, at full bloom, with a faint glow to its core. It waited there, patiently, curiously, for him. He walked towards it. The glow at its core grew brighter, gentilly pulsating, greeting him, as if saying hello. As if the whole planet was, through that one flower, acknowledging him.
That’s when it struck him, and he wondered why the superintelligence hadn’t suggested it yet. He knew what the patterns were, what the electrical pulses were, and he was certain, but he had to confirm nonetheless— “the pulses, they were synapses, were they not?”
The superintelligence was silent for a second, and when its response came, it was slow and controlled.
“The planetary neural network does indeed have a resemblance to the human brain. But that’s where it ends—a resemblance. I suspect that we will never be able to decipher how it works, or what its motives are.”
“Would communication be possible?”
“It’s quite unlikely to be, Seb, although as always, it can never hurt to try.”
He looked at the flower again, and only then did he realize just how large it was. As he contemplated whether to heed the flower’s call, a creature glided down from the canopy in a blur of white, fluttered its wings, and settled itself on a nearby branch. It was like a small, scaleless wyvern, but pearl-white and with smoother, more refined features. Wang recognized it as a member of a species of particularly intelligent avians, by the pair of tentacle-like manipulation arms reaching out from under its head. It was a young specimen, and with a wingspan of just under two meters, it was a fifth of the size of a fully grown member of its species.
The creature tilted its head, two black eyes studying him with curiosity. Go on, they almost seemed to say, whatcha waiting for?
Wang reached out and placed his hands on the flower. Acutely he was aware of a presence, the presence of the creature, the presence of hundreds of other creatures in the forest, and the presence of the entire planet, staring back at him. It was then that he decided a name would be required.
“I dub thee Hyterrum!”
>> Scutum-Centaurus 155038504/04, nominal designation “New Mongolia”
Phoebe glided over the sea of grass of the idyllic landscape, rippling gentilly in the cold wind, with a striking resemblance to the subarctic plains on Old Terra for which the planet had been named. She spent a few nanoseconds, imagining what the scene would be like with a few wild horses and a windmill halfway up the distant mountains. Liking the results, she saved them to her storage.
The grassy plants stretching to the horizon belonged to one of the best examples of convergent evolution to have been discovered. Despite the chemical and internal differences, they had the same form to fit the same ecological niche of large-scale conversion of sunlight into usable energy. Turns out that grass-like organisms were quite an evolutionarily advantaged multicellular lifeform, behind moss-analogues and algae.
One of Phoebe's subroutines, coordinating the thousands of survey drones spread out across the planet, suddenly called for attention. She split off part of her processing power to answer the request.
Huh, what’ve we got here?
Silicon, carbon…wait. What?
Forgetting her flight over the plains entirely, she pushed the subroutine aside to see the occurrence for herself. It was a geologically fresh fissure, revealing layers upon layers of minerals, striated throughout the rock.
One particular layer was particularly interesting.
That elemental makeup…it doesn’t match anything else on this planet! The concentration of those isotopes shouldn’t be possible! There’s no known natural phenomena that could have formed this.
Down at the bottom there, it’s pretty normal, but the fossils found suggest a much higher biodiversity than currently seen on this planet…and then as we go up, there must have been some global firestorm to create these carbon ratios, which in and of itself wouldn’t be too strange. In fact it could explain where the biodiversity went. But then up here, there’s exotic materials that have no place in a firestorm, so perhaps it was a meteor apocalypse? But still that doesn’t explain the radioactive isotopes, which would have long since decayed, even in meteorites. The only other explanation would be a supernova, but one close enough to form this would have sterilized the planet in the process…
None of this makes sense! It almost reminds me of…wait…
That’s not possible, is it? Lemme see…where is it…
Aha, the geological records of Earth…the anthropocene…
Oh shit.
Shit. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.
The elemental makeup of the strata layer matched almost perfectly with that for Humanity’s industrial revolution, followed by the nuclear age. It was the first time since the failed contact attempts on Hyterrum that humanity had found any signs of alien intelligence.
But where are they now? Why didn’t we detect any traces of civilization, here or in neighboring systems?
Unless it’s all been buried.
The shape of the layer. Fuzzy lower boundary, sharp upper boundary. An abrupt transition from one geological age to another. An abrupt end to…oh…
Phoebe realized that she was looking at the entire history of an alien civilization. One whose evolutionary advantage, unlike the grasses covering the planet, had been insufficient.
Oh nononono nope. Nuh uh. Didn’t see that. Didn’t see that.
Deciding that this situation required extra processing power, Phoebe altered her computational structure, spreading it out among the myriad of drones under her command, sacrificing some latency and reaction time.
A solid 23 seconds later, she decided that finding the best way to proceed would require even more processing power, meaning she could leave it to the higher ups to deal with the situation.
>> Neon Void, Sagittarius A\*
“We slagged your ships. We glassed your planets. We killed your kin. We didn’t want to, but we had no choice. We don’t want to have to kill you as well.”
Kai Neumann solemnly watched the still form of the Upsilon entity floating in its containment unit. It had long since stopped struggling against its metaphorical restraints, and had sated itself to simply float in the void, taking the form of a smooth, white sphere.
A minute later there was still no response.
“You’re the last of your kind. Please.”
Neumann requested the vault-class prison’s system to increase the energy limits for the unit, a request which was scrutinized, simulated and passed by multiple intelligences. Seconds later the system’s gestalt hyperintelligence notified him of a unanimous vote of 60-0, and the request was fulfilled.
Imperceptibly the sphere rippled in response, then went still yet again. Neumann sighed.
“You know, humanity has always wished to meet others among the stars. Yet the few cases of intelligent life we had found were either incomprehensible, or dead. As such when your kind sprung out of the shadow and devastated two entire mass streams, all 105 lightyears of them, we still tried to communicate. Imagine our joy when we found out that our psychology was mostly compatible. Actually, you don’t have to imagine. You’ve been given the memory records. So please, this is your last chance. Your entire people’s last chance.”
There was a period of silence, before two words were projected into Neumann’s mind.
“Release me.”
“What?”
“If you cannot kill me, then release me.”
“I can’t do that unless you agree to our ultimatum.”
“Then kill me.”
“Just—why? Why are all of you so stubborn? Why can’t we coexist? You have all the memories of every member of your species—surely one of them would have been willing to cooperate?”
“No. Never. You are monsters—an unstoppable force that will consume all. I will not share a universe with monsters”
Neumann blew out a breath. “But why. Why do you think that?”
“It’s simple, yet you cannot understand. My answer is the same as every other time that I have answered this question.”
A pause followed, filled with the quiet whirl of quantum thermal pumps, as the system analyzed the next move. It was decided 93-0, that further negotiations would be futile.
“I will ask one last time. Do you agree to the proposed ultimatum?”
“No. I will not share a universe with monsters.”
It was the answer that Neumann had expected. Collapsing the viewport showing the Upsilon’s containment unit, he called out to the prison’s Gestalt Hyperintelligence.
“System, analysis.”
“The analysis has already been completed, Neumann, all 14,035 iterations. With a majority vote of 1,036-308, the decision is that there is only one viable way to proceed.”
Neumann’s gaze passed over the room, a physical room rather than a simulated environment—as specified by the prison architects for the sole bodily decision-maker, a role that weighed heavily on Neumann’s shoulders.
“The course of action predetermined by the council?”
“Yes.”
One wall of the room was a giant window, through which the filtered light of Sagittarius A’s accretion disk shined, glistening off the onyx walls. Two *monstera deliciosa cheese plants caught the yellowish light on their split, deep green leaves.
“Don’t we have to hold another vote?”
Images of long ago battles flashed through Neumann’s mind; in each one the enemy had fought harder than the last, and in each one they lost, fled, leaving behind those who willingly sacrificed so the rest could escape.
“No. It had already been decided unanimously by all members of the council three standard centuries, or two local months ago. Remember that it was ultimately you who refused to approve the command, being the final prisonside decision-maker.”
Looking through the eyes of one particular combat AI, Neumann saw the disabled Upsilon fighter, the one that the entire human race would remember, stuck in the thermal sinkhole from an area-denial weapon. The void around it was littered with pieces of organic and inorganic matter alike. In the distance points of light were receding into the depth of space—the Upsilon fleet, retreating after a particularly devastating battle. One of the points slowed, waiting for someone that would never come.
With a command the sinkhole dissipated. The combat AI backed up its ship, giving the Upsilon fighter space. The prisoner-capture ships moved in, but before they could reach it there was a flash of white—
When it faded, the prisoner-capture ships reported light damage to their shielding. The Upsilon fighter was naught but a cloud of plasma. Far away, the point of light solemnly joined back with the rest of the fleet and continued its journey.
Outside the window, the prisoner complex was highlighted and magnified, frozen against the event horizon. “Assemble the council again. Take another vote.”
“That wouldn’t accomplish anything,” came the voice of the gestalt hyperintelligence, cold as a splash of ice water.
“Damnit. Is there anything at all that we can do!?”
“Yes, Neumann. You can press the button.”
The button. Off to one side of the window-wall, pressing it would close the air-gapped controls to the containment cells. Then the system could carry out the predetermined course of action. The fate of an entire species, one of the most advanced in known space, bound to a single button.
Neumann strided over and pressed it. It wasn’t like he had any other choice—the Upsilon hadn’t given him one.
He watched on an infodisplay on the window as the steady flow of mass-energy to the containment cell holding the last of the Upsilon cut off. The light from the cell began to fade, shifting red ever so slowly.
To the captured Upsilon, nothing seemed amiss as it passed through the point of no return.
To Neumann and the rest of humanity, the image of the cell would remain there, frozen on the event horizon for centuries—a ghost.
>> The Halls of the Forgotten
Six limestone hallways stretched into the tesseract. Six mausoleums, for six dead species, six “everyone-and-everything-you’ve-ever-knowns”, forgotten to the void of time.
Operating out of the smallest room in the tesseract, it was Hauhet’s job to learn what had been lost, although wrangling with time was no easy feat. Millions of years of geological records had been analyzed thousands of times over hundreds of centuries, an unfathomable amount of information compiled into an additional six rooms worth of results.
Glancing at the plaques for rooms 2-7, they read:
The Ruins of New Mongolia, remnants of an enterprising race who almost made it to space. Their civilization lived for 12,045 years.
The Ghosts of the Upsilon, a species of rapid evolution, infinitely adaptable down to their own psychology. Yet the Upsilon couldn’t adapt to humanity. They lasted 4,583 years.
The Architects of Skye. The great monuments of their history stretch a span of 132,057 ± 500 years.
Firefly, named after the ancient television franchise. Aged ~33,000 years.
The Terraformers. 68,000 years.
Hyperion, age indeterminate.
They were the forgotten ones, history lost to the infinite ocean of time.
To Hauhet, this endless chaos was her playground; making patterns out of the noise, her passion.
Starting wave function collapse 677,903 using latest received states.
Then Hauhet turned her attention to the empty, 8th room at the end of the hallways, as she had thousands of times before. She had not been told who it was for. So, she had made the plaque for it herself.
Estimated time to completion, 12:36:14
From the limitless sea of information she would form correlations, among the different species, and then in between them. Iteration after iteration, events were compared, similarities and differences noted, and trends were checked time and again. Her analyses extended far beyond the individual species themselves.
Matching states with model…
It was quite a while ago that Hauhet had started seeing patterns. Some had been interesting. Others had been worrying. One in particular was, as she had put it, apocalyptic, for it extended not just in the past, but also past the present, and into the future.
Recalculating the Prophecy.
Hauhet would breeze through the calculations. Prophecies didn’t change, after all; and so the steps were simple, and the result simpler: a single percentage, the probability that determined if the Prophecy would prove true. The probability that determined if the name on the plaque would join the others in the Halls of the Forgotten.
Presently Hauhet turned her attention to the plaque, and the name engraved on it, in every language known to man. All of them she could read, and all of them said the same thing: Humanity.
Calculation complete. Resulting certainty: 100%
Starting wave function collapse 677,904…
>> Milky Way Galaxy
Humanity watched as star after star faded from the night sky. Each one was a billion, ten billion, a hundred billion souls, snuffed out like a candle out of wax.
With each star Humanity knew a part of themselves died, but they couldn’t feel it. They couldn’t feel what wasn’t there.
They vaguely remembered a time, long ago when Humanity was on the threshold of the stars, looking up at the universe, waiting to find others like them. Then they came across the Hyterrum Mind, a beautiful flower growing in the void. They had admired it, but eventually, it had faded to the back of their memory; flowers couldn’t talk, after all.
Then from the shadows of the riverbend came the Upsilon, a prey cornered on their path. They tried to soothe it, to back away, to go around it. But it lashed out, and it had kept fighting, all the way to its death.
Its corpse had joined the dozens of others strewn across the stars.
Now they looked down at the galaxy, the galaxy that they had conquered. It was an impressive feat. They had thought themselves on top of the world, beyond the clutches of evolution.
Now Humanity realized how wrong they were. Civilization was simply an organism, one level in complexity above multicellular life, and they had known all along that multicellular life had evolved 25 times independently. Yet only a few of those 25 lineages survived to form plants, animals, and fungi. It should have been obvious.
What happened to the other ones?
The dozens of dead civilizations was what had happened.
Humanity had conquered much, but never once had they conquered evolution, and now it was their turn to cross into the Great Beyond.
To join the forgotten.
And the last of the stars died out.
>> Starting conscious waveform collapse. Retrieving retrotemporal translations: terms, names, units.
Our universe is 14.2 billion years old, and yet, when we look up, no one seems to be looking back...
>> Carina-Sagittarius 040335837/2
A lone, winged creature strolled about in front of a striated cliff face, his two manipulator arms tracing over a peculiar band of color. With a wave of his tentacle-like arms the surface of the cliff rippled, its molecules flowing about to his will, and clumps of material freed themselves from the rock and hovered in the air.
Silicon, carbon…hmm. Those proportions seem off.
He knew, using the abilities gifted to him by evolution, the precise makeup of the cliff wall. What he didn’t know was how it came to be, and the once-great species behind its origin. The species that had called itself Humanity.
Sharp upper boundary…huh.
Around him stretched a small patch of unfamiliar short green stalks, the only significant lifeform on the dry, alien planet.
That's interesting.
And the grass swayed in the wind.

Hi there folks. I will get to the point as I am wading into a field outside my profession but have some understanding of the principles underpinning building science and a great appreciation for the value of the work you do.
Bought a new construction home in suburban southern NJ 5 years ago and have had a variety of ventilation related issues that need resolution for a variety of reasons, health and comfort are the two main ones.
issues:
Two hvac systems. basement is a goodman controls basement and ground floor. carrier infinity with a zone damper for the 2nd 3rd floor (I bought this last summer to see if a better machine would help and it does, but not enough) poorly designed and implemented ductwork have led to this.
Three-story 4200 sq foot house, faces south east and gets almost full sun all day all year. soil is "wet clay like" along lots of water near the delaware river . The plot is high for the local area and we never floor or get water coming in or pooling afaik. original house was demolished and two homes were put in on the plot. has attached garage
BASEMENT: about 1500sq feet/2 rooms and mechanical room below grade, 8-9 foot ceilings, synthetic shag carpet in living space
1.some species of molds based on testing done by an IAQ company - I can share their data if it proves helpful, but the source seems to be air flow related and moisture control

1. vinyl shag carpeting (needs to go)
   
2. lack of airflow/returns - only 1 small 6 inch round duct.
   
3. basement has a powder room with a exhaust fan which i keep on usually
   
4. had a slow leak 4 years ago from a toilet that we caught super early (within a month) and fixed (did not remediate)
   

GROUND FLOOR - 2 main rooms and a hallway- 9 foot ceiling - about 1200 sq feet

1. lack of returns - only 2 - one of the rooms does not have one
2. stale air in front (gas) fireplace room, dirty sock ish, i put a hepa purifier there and it helps a bit
3. 2 large picture windows j channel/waterflow issue potential being investigated
4. limited flow into kitchen from one single ceiling register

SECOND FLOOR - 3 bedrooms 2 bathrooms and laundry room. 8 foot ceilings

1. south side gets very limited CFMs, stale and warm in summer, stale and cold in winter - son gets bad indoor allergies in late fall/winteearly spring
2. both bedrooms that face SW have bathrooms that are above a (somewhat) insulated garage.
3. north side gets unacceptably high CFMs, cold
4. likely flex duct that is undersized with lots of 90s. unknown layout!

THIRD FLOOR - 8 foot ceilings - 1200 sq feet

1. limited return volume - 1 small 5 inch round duct
2. airflow in bedroom unacceptable (too hot/cold, stale
3. damper noises from mechanical room bc hvac pro added added some return via the room/main return duct itself bc system was starved

outdoooddities

1. driveway sinking/ possible beginning of water issue near garage at house, would fit pattern of where smells emerge, but not 1:1
2. stacking effect when windows open at certain times/windows causes strong ozone odors. notably if we open fireplace room windows, master bed/bath windows - does not happen always... maybe the fill/or some combustion in our basement appliances, something exterior with the amount of sun we are and being close to a large paved schoolyard bkb court across the street?

IAQ company has made a variety of suggestions:

1. more testing for genus/species of molds/ test seasonality. molds were found in basement, and in a few rooms that do seem to smell funkieget less ai

I said no to this bc it seems clear the source is airflow/ventilation/ and further info seems academic

1. humidex for basement and garage (leaning to yes)
   
2. reme halo (probably no)
   
3. some proprietary service called sterimist and an in-home beneficial probiotic. (i am not sure, the sterimist could be a reasonable reset)
   

some of the magic box stuff has me skeptical but I am not closed-minded. Reme has mixed reviews and it seems like a steady flow of hyrogen peroxide plasma isnt a solution and might be a problem?

1. addressing the real issues of ventilation may require considerable expense and having to get out of the house - we have a remodel in mind so might phase it and do bits and pieces over a few years. I think we might need to open the ceilings and redo some ductwork but would welcome some input if a Humidex and maybe adding an ERV could cover the bases to start.
   
2. there's always more.
   

My main questions is: who can help me, who do I hire to analyze these variables to determine what solutions will be most effective? Also, any help towards understanding the important variables, naming the problems, and also how to find real solutions would be greatly appreciated.
Thanks in advance for any input.

So, as said in my before post, bf would threaten breaking up and killing himself any time we argued. The last time we argued two weeks ago was because he was running bath water for a shower and ten minutes minutes went by where he didn’t use it, so I turned it off. He got “pissed off” and compared me to my narcissistic mother whom he knows has hurt me. Later that night and the next day, he tried making out like I was in the wrong, made me apologize, and threatened the break up and suicide. Not the first time any of this has happened, it’s a pattern. I told him I wanted to break up. He begged for another chance.
Two weeks later, he’s angry that a couple of nights ago I got shitfaced (not something I regularly do). Once again, we argue and the same threats roll around. I realized that this is a pattern finally, I went to Reddit and some of you helped me, and also realized I’d been on eggshells these past two weeks, wondering if I pissed him off over something small again if he’d lash out. I thought about it and told him I want to break up.
I went out last night with some friends, but still texted him out of concern to make sure he hadn’t hurt himself. I came home (we live together)and just felt very confused because I still love him.
This morning we began talking. At first it was gentle and he said he would never threaten to hurt himself again and he’s not suicidal. It got heated. He at one point said his mother attempted suicide over having problems with his father, which I wondered if was some kind of manipulation tactic. Like, “see this is what happens when you break up!” Later it got more heated and he threatened to hurt himself again.
I’m so confused. I love him, he’s not a bad person, but I can’t stand this. I think his insecurities are causing him to mistreat me. Not that that justifies it.

Hi, posting here because I think I'm autistic and I think this might be an autistic thing. Awaiting assessment for autism. 33 F diagnosed adhd and dyspraxia and FND with functional tics. Very highly suspect autism. I recently started a new job in social care.
I am obsessed with clothes and I love to buy clothes but I overthink every situation and I'm often feeling like I am over dressed or under dressed. I like certain colours especially pastel blue, pink and lilac and I wear these colours a lot.
I recently started a new job and I got lots of smart casual clothes because I thought I should try to look professional. I have a variety of blouses and cardigans with different colours and patterns. I always make sure the colours go together. I think I probably look quite smart. All the clothes are comfortable, black and grey trousers all elasticated / adjustable waist. I feel naked in just a t shirt. I am plus sized. Some people at work wear joggers but I feel like my joggers are not appropriate for work. The dress code does not say much. It says we should wear comfortable clothes and not show any part of the body which could be viewed as offensive. I don't like this because it's a bit vague but I think it means just not revealing. I have a midi dress that might be nice if we get a sunny day.
I feel like my casual clothes are too casual for work. I recently got new leggings but they are adidas and I don't know how I feel about adidas. Sometimes I like it and other times I feel embarrassed or worried what people are thinking. Also I feel like leaopord print leggings and tie dye hoodies are not suitable for work. Because of my dyspraxia I am a messy eater and if I'm eating I will often spill food on my clothes. Sometimes if I wear a tea towel around my collar to protect my clothes but sometimes I forget and in public like at work I feel a bit embarrassed. So a lot of my clothes have stains whereas my work clothes do not have stains.
(I won't wear anything uncomfortable especially not jeans ever).
Other people at work do dress kinda smartly but a lot of people dress casually in hoodies, jeans, joggers. I'm worried that I might be overdressed. I'm worried I look foolish or silly or old or something. Maybe I should dress down but I would need to get new clothes. It might have to wait. Or maybe I'm doing the right thing? I work in social care.

I'm skinny on cash and heavy on excess polyfill - so I want to diy a tailors ham
Any suggestions on the best shape/size or perhaps a free tutorial or pattern floating around the internet.
Input is appreciated 👏
EDIT: based on the incredibly helpful recommendations I've gotten here, this is my updated 'master list' of best practices I will be following/choosing from
STUFFING - absolutely will not be using polyfil [should have realized that was a bad idea, thank you to everyone who kindly steered me away from that] - Sawdust - heavy and absorbs steam - Pine pet bedding was recommended as well - Another recommended a solid wood Sawdust like oak - Heavy cotton twill scraps - jeans were recommended. I have some heavy cotton canvas I'm considering - Stuffing should be very densely packed
FABRIC - Inner lining of cotton - Wool exterior - Different fabrics on each side for use with different projects - Cotton twill and wool were recommended
CONSTRUCTION - Recommended tutorial from Tilly and the Buttons [https://www.tillyandthebuttons.com/2012/08/how-to-make-tailors-hams-and-sausages.html?m=1] - Commenter liked this one as it has darts to help create the form - Recommended creating the egg shape by tracing around your hand - Or tracing the forearm for a tailors sausage - Doublestitching for strength
OTHER RECCOMMENDATIONS/HACKS - A cotton tea towel over a rolling pin is a good quick fix for a sleeve ham

• Comment on using a towel to create a ham:

"I've used a rolled up towel with success before I had a ham. Lay it lengthwise and fold the edges so they meet in the middle with the short edges being smaller and the full length maintained. Roll from both short ends meeting in the center so it looks from the side like the top of a column. You want the folds encased so you end up with a rolled flat top. Baste the rolls together or secure as you like to form it into whatever shape you need."
THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO HAS COMMENTED HERE! if you would like me to include your username alongside your specific suggestions, let me know.

[WP] You just had a dream where a person ask you to waltz with them! You woke up and frantically find tutorials on how to waltz, then frantically fall back asleep.

I was a wallflower pressed against the ballroom's periphery. From here, I watched the dancers move in hypnotizing circles, smiles plastered on their half-masked faces. I did wonder how it was that I wound up in such a place. What was the occasion? Who would invite me of all people? I figured my presence was some oversight, a clerical error as invitations went out.
I brought my gin and tonic to my lips. When had I gotten a drink? It bumped against the lowest part of my mask, which hanged over my nose. When had I put on a mask? My mind struggled to consider the mounting mysteries while it continued admiring the spectacle before me. I felt stretched, delirious. But euphoric at the same time. Something about this room, this event, was otherworldly.
I considered moving to the dancefloor. I put one foot in front of the other.
Then I stopped.
Even here, even in this place where my inhibitions were diminished, fear niggled its way into my head. I would not be a fool today--or any day--if I could help it.
"Were you thinking of dancing?" The voice called from behind me. When had I moved so far from the wall?
I turned around to find a woman standing there. She was wearing a green sequin dress and a feathered mask, which obscured much of her face, but not its shape, or the freckles that traversed the bridge of her nose. Dark eyeshadow made her emerald eyes seem to shine as they focused on mine.
Her expression was that of mischief, a slight smile revealing a little gap between her two front teeth. Unlike most of the other women dancing, her hair was not put up in an extravagant style but it laid over her shoulders like a red silk scarf.
"Only thinking about it, I'm afraid," I answered.
"That's too bad. I'm in need of a partner. Reconsider?" She stretched her hand toward me. I should take it. I should dance. I should see where this goes.
"Sorry, I don't dance." The words slipped out. Fear won the day.
Her lips closed around her teeth, and I found myself missing them. I wanted to make her smile again.
"Too bad," she told me, and I found myself feeling invisible as her eyes scanned the crowd for a more willing partner--a wallflower prime for pollinating.
"I just don't know how to dance," I tried explaining.
"I get it," she quickly answered, clearly spurned by my rejection. How was I rejected her?
She walked away without a word, and it felt like a stone dropped in my gut. I watched her go, the magnificent ballroom a mere fuzz in light of this mysterious, beautiful woman. My sight tunneled until it was just her, shrinking away from me, maybe forever.
I woke up.
I always wake up too soon from a good dream, too late for a nightmare. Which was this?
I got out of bed and walked across my bedroom and opened my laptop. The people in that ballroom had been waltzing, I learned, though some part of my subconscious must have already known that. Regardless, I started pulling up video after video of the waltz, easy tutorials, footing charts.
The man (or, more appropriately, the "lead") leads. I practiced a few of the moves in the small space of my bedroom. I wanted to go back to the ballroom; I wanted to find the emerald girl and ask her to dance. My heart tugged with urgency, as if this dream phantom was about to slip through my grasp and she'd be lost forever.
When I was confident, I laid back down in my bed, determined to fall asleep and return.
But sleep never found me.
I tossed and turned, pressed my eyes closed, practiced deep breathing patterns. Brief moments slipped past where I dozed but didn't dream. The longer sleep dodged me, the more the dream leaked from my memory. The images began blending, retreating. They were far away now, abstractions. I felt like a fool as I tracked the impending morning.
But even though I couldn't remember most of the dream, the girl stayed, cemented in my mind. Something about her hooked my fascination. Was this love? Infatuation? Lust? No certainly not lust--it was something far deeper than that.
It was time to get up and get ready for work. My head was in the clouds, preoccupied with not forgetting the emerald girl, while my body bathed itself, dressed itself, and gathered its things for work.
I walked to the train, thinking of how I could solidify her image. I couldn't draw. Maybe I could set an AI image generator to make pictures of red-headed women until it came close enough.
What am I talking about?
The longer I thought on it, the sillier I felt. By the time I boarded my train, I was embarrassed of my inner thoughts. What sort of man drools--and fails to win the heart of--a girl he imagined? Probably everyone has episodes like this, right? There must be some psychological phenomenon that all people experience, some evolutionary benefit to the mind randomly generating--
Sitting across from me, with her head in a book was a red headed woman, her hair like red silk over her shoulders, pink lips pressed tight around her teeth. Teeth I hoped had a gap.
I opened my mouth to speak but stopped myself. Wallflower again.
No, not again.
"What are you reading?" I asked.
She looked up. Green eyes glowing. They darted from the book to me then back to the book as she turned it to the front cover, which was facing me.
She opened her mouth. A gap between her teeth.
She was going to answer. She was going to tell me what I already knew. The Will to Change by bell hooks.
But her eyes squinted and focused on me a little harder. My breath caught.
"Don't I know you from somewhere?" She asked me.

I got a brand new bath towel for wiping our hands from Dollarama on Saturday. Only thing is from the first use I noticed it keeps flaking off pieces of the fabric when I wipe my hands after washing. It's not like little white pieces either it's like the actual blue fabric. Worst part of this is it gets stuck to your hands so it's actually doing the opposite of what the purpose of a towel is right now. & today I didn't expect to wipe my hands while putting more product in my hair which made some of those pieces get stuck in my hair. So I had to take extra time to get them out almost making me late for work.
I was wondering if y'all have experienced this before & if giving it a wash could potentially fix it by getting all those extra pieces out or should I just toss it & buy a more expensive towel?

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Hello everyone, I’m not sure what ill end up typing here and how long I’ll go on for, sorry if it’s a lot. I’d like help validating what I’ve experienced is actually CI, if I should ever address it with my mother, if I can save our relationship which is now very weak.
I am her eldest, parents separated at 10. My mother never showed physical affection when I was a child, I am aware now it’s why I like to hug cuddle and kiss the people I love so much, I’m a very touchy person it doesn’t hurt me that she didn’t but I think a hug is a powerful way of reassuring someone and I can see why missing out on that your whole childhood could suck. I blame my mother for my lack of independence, individuality and ambition after my teen years, she never encouraged or helped me to become independent, I had terrible social skills as a teen and mostly struggled with women as far as my early 20s.
I guess I’ll start with physical stuff as I never knew if it was normal, it doesn’t bother me really but I have some vivid memories of being spanked very hard by her, I am not someone who ever cries from pain and tough most things out but I remember being in agony and her doing it until I cried, then making out it wasn’t that bad. I have broken lots of bones and been through a lot and none of those memories felt as physically painful. Years and years later she did admit she went too far “once” when spanking. I remember begging her to stop, hiding from her and it’s never sat right with me as it is very out of character for me, I don’t even remember what I did wrong and by all accounts I was a really timid and well behaved kid even according to her.
In my teens I had no privacy, she read my messages to friends without me knowing, checked my browser history, checked through my phones photos (I think I got a mobile at age 15) I caught her out, I saw the browser history of someone viewing all my chats on MSN (I think that’s what it was back then) and she had gone through every single chat and every page, I think this is when damage started for me and my home life felt different from other kids.
As a child I had written notes to a girl I liked, I hid them very well and she still found them and embarrassed me about them, it wasn’t mean poking fun but just openly talking about them to me made me feel so embarrassed and I wanted them to be private.
I have very vague memories of a stranger online catfishing me/grooming me whatever, I was 14 or so and understood they probably werent who they said they were but I remember still wanting to show them the pictures they wanted. I took photos but never sent them, and that night my mother had already been through my phone and found them, showed them to me, I was humiliated and still don’t know why we had to look at them together when I could’ve just been told not to or had my phone taken away.
I have memories in my early teens of her buying me clothes and making me try them on in her room, she made comments like “I shouldn’t say this but…” “you look like ___ but I shouldn’t say that” looking back I feel a little gross about this, I struggle though as at the time I liked being told I looked good and I liked when my mother was nice to me. In my early teens if I bathed or showered she would hold the towel out for me to step in to, I remember hating the distance between where she was stood and the bathtub, I felt exposed and dreaded standing up out of the water. I stopped her doing it probably around 10-12 years, not the other way around.
As I recall the ages 14-18 or so I start to lose steam, puberty hit me and I think this is where my shame sets in, she was inappropriate with me but there were times I did bad things myself and it’s so hard not to just blame myself for everything. I’m not asking to be blindly reassured, I want to know how wrong the things I did are and why the hell my brain works this way :(
My mother had a very stressful job, I would spend an hour sometimes hours sat with her every night while she vented about management and coworkers, she is without a doubt very mentally ill (extreme mood swings, paranoia, rage, substance abuse, suicidal, but somehow a very charismatic bubbly person the rest of the time) I felt responsible for her emotions and like I needed to manage them and keep on top of them or the atmosphere in the house would become very toxic. If she was stressed then she would take it out on me and my siblings, she was the type to silently stew, sulk, slam doors, lock herself in her room, only to let it all out at once in a flurry. Once she started at one thing you knew she would make her way through the house and address all the things and people that upset her usually by screaming at you.
I would be unable to sit and relax or feel like I couldn’t be heard playing video games having fun, having friends over, unless I had dealt with her mood first and ensured she was happy too. 50% of our chats were about work, but a large portion would turn into venting about her friends, sisters, parents, my dad, her current boyfriend etc.
I am aware of the term enmeshment and I am 100% sure this is what I experienced :/ on my own pyramid of needs her emotions came first, I wanted her to feel good naturally as it’s my mother and I care, it was made an extremely stressful need though as I felt I couldn’t be seen to be enjoying myself if she was stressed.
I am 5 years older than the next sibling so that explains some of this, but she would be comfortable showing skin around me but went to lengths to hide herself from other siblings. This included sunbathing topless in front of me only, sitting in my room talking to me after a shower in just a towel, changing infront of me even as an adult, waking me to zip her dresses up in the morning, getting me to apply aloe to her naked face down, applying sunscreen etc. no other children did this.
Opening a whole other can of worms now but once I wore some of her clothes for my friend (we would fuck around experimenting, both bi) and hid them. I did have intrusive thoughts about my mother by this point, I would get excited when I saw her nude, on weekends I would overhear her having sex with boyfriends, saw her having sex multiple times, I knew it was wrong but felt deeply attracted to her at times, other times sexually she disgusted me. I did not wear them because of that attraction, I think I was experimenting with gender stuff more than anything - she found the stolen clothes in my room and just took them back, she just rolled her eyes and said she had been looking for them and that they were expensive, I figured it was too awkward for her to address properly.
Not long after she brought me into her room and was asking my opinion on which dress to wear for an interview, when she switched she undressed to reveal fancy lingerie, she told me that they were new too and very expensive so “don’t take these” she admired herself in the mirror, turning and posing so I could see, I was visibly erect and embarrassed. I apologised and she said “it’s just hormones” something along the lines of “at least I know I look good”
At 18 I still felt responsible for her emotions, sitting with her and acting as a therapist for hours every night was now part of my routine, I felt like we were the main people in each others lives and she was sadly my best friend. She would vent about her sisters and close friends, she couldn’t trust them, she could trust me etc. I felt like I had a second job at home every evening making sure she was emotionally stable, I found myself craving physical affection from her (just a hug or to cuddle on the couch) something she had never done in childhood, it was still very rare but it felt like a reward for being a good son and friend when she would cuddle up to me for the evening, I am aware how wrong it is and feel disgusting just writing it. To this day, even though she has hurt me so much I crave just a hug or for her to say she appreciates me, it is something deep rooted that pops up despite knowing better :(
She made inappropriate comments about my body, my girlfriend, even my friends. I had sexual dreams about her around this time and recognised it was wrong and that our relationship wasn’t normal, I tried to spend less of my evenings with her and more with my girlfriend. My mother made jealous comments about it, that I was neglecting family time and questioning if she was right for me. She once said how I shouldn’t send risky pictures to her until I can trust her (we’d been dating a year!!!) and I had happened to been sexting her that day, it triggered me and my privacy issues and I had this disgusting gut feeling that she had snooped on my phone.
Please give me honest brutal feedback here, these days I think it’s morally wrong what I did : I was sure she was snooping so I left my phone on my bed face down with rude pictures on as I went for a bath, with my webcam recording and monitor off. When I watched it back she came in to “tidy” and notices my phone, she looks at it and turns it over, and just keeps looking for a good minute, checking over her shoulder, then staying still listening out, before leaving. She comes back in minutes later to look again briefly before turning the screen off and placing it face down again. I felt sick to my stomach that she was snooping, but shamefully very aroused that she was admiring my pictures - I know I am so sick for this, I am so sorry and feel so ashamed.
I moved out with a friend not long after this, the environment was getting so toxic as I spent less time being her “best friend” she would have frequent outbursts, extremely excessive drinking and partying, having random men over and loud sex on weekends with me home. I hated it and hated the sexual feelings I had felt and wanted out.
She pestered constantly after I moved out, I limited communication to just emails and I would only get back to her every few weeks if that. I could tell slowly she was realising she had pushed me out, she was open about how much she missed me and wanted to visit. I was enjoying life independently for the first time and didn’t want to see her.
Our relationship started to heal, after a year or so of dropping our contact and time together she respected I had my own life, I moved back in with her after a breakup and even home life with her felt relaxed and , she had more friends, a better support network, better job. It was hard not to feel like our relationship was cold considering we were so close before, but I knew it was healthier this way. I did end up back in the routine of spending a lot of my evenings with her, but it was more as adult friends just chilling watching films and tv, she didn’t discuss all her relationship and family issues, she had stopped dating and appreciated a stress free life, and I was spared the sex life details now
One night she put my trainers on to put something outside, came back and mentioned they basically fit her, I thought no shit I’m a small guy, but she said it’s not true what they say then, I asked what she meant, she said “big feet, big dick” I was really stunned and not really sure how to respond, I could hear her voice was shaky and nervous as she said it, her hands were visibly TREMBLING, she got up to go smoke outside and seemed extremely on edge. I told my ex girlfriend what had happened and she was furious (we were on great terms and she was always adamant my mother was a fucked up person and that I should stay away from her) she supported me a lot and helped me not to freak out too much but she was really angry with my mother, told me how she had made similar comments to her in the past about her being lucky to have me 🤮 it was the first time for me hearing this but I needed to, my whole teen years to this point (21 I’d guess) I had felt sexual tension between me and my mother and constantly felt like a disgusting pervert for thinking that way, my ex made it clear from comments made to her that my mother definitely sexualised me, and the big feet thing.
I still had to live with her. She made more similar comments, was naked around me more than ever. I went into a deep depression, some days I felt “sober” and icky, disgusted by my mothers behaviour, disgusted by myself, others I felt “intoxicated” and fantasised about being a sexual object to her, I fixated on how I felt invisible to her affection as a child but now I was a man, she appreciated me, my masculinity, body - I have brief moods with this “intoxicated” feeling even now, I struggle not to slip straight back into depression and shame after them. I hate that I had and have these thoughts, I hate that no matter how responsible she is for any of it, she could point to my own behaviour as being inappropriate at times, I hate how weak I feel when having sexual feelings about her. I caught her snooping more, looking at my nude pictures, I purposefully let her see me nude in the flesh multiple times after - I felt addicted to her looking at me sexually.
Am I fucked forever? She refuses to get therapy, she won’t acknowledge she has any mental issues, she is a deeply lonely person, I have cut nearly all contact with her now but feel so much guilt for abandoning her, she struggles with my other siblings, she is a victim of abuse herself, is what happened to me even abuse? Am I just as bad for encouraging her and willingly taking part? Is it morally okay to just bail on her? I feel better away from her, but I don’t want her to suffer. I don’t trust myself to be appropriate when around her, and I trust her even less. Nobody else in my family knows, they are aware of the gulf between us and it eats at me every day knowing they must think of all sorts of reasons for it.
I want to know if I should bring up everything I’ve written here to her. I don’t want to have a relationship with her unless we address the very unhealthy attraction we have to each other at times. She is a sweep it under the rug kind of person. I want her to know that if she ever felt I was inappropriate that she wasn’t imagining things, that she wasn’t crazy - and I want to know the same :( I want her to admit she crossed boundaries before we heal, and I’ll admit the same, but that is such a scary conversation to have when we’ve never explicitly even acknowledged it.
Deep down I feel she gave me a whiff of sexuality and attention, just a hint that she saw me sexually - touching my body and muscles after a whole childhood of physical neglect, commenting on my penis size, commenting on hearing me have sex, being nude around me and me alone, she knew I would get erect sometimes when rubbing sun cream or aloe on her and she still asked me to do it every time, but she never explicitly said or did anything incestuous. I feel like she put this idea in my head but never confirmed it, now on my bad days I feel like it was one sided, that I was the inappropriate one for being aroused, for enjoying the attention. We are both fucked up, and I just want to stop feeling crazy and actually acknowledge that we are fucked up instead of
Pretending it never happened and carry on
or never speaking to each other again.
I don’t like those options, but do I have to settle for one? Is it too risky to talk to her about such a messy subject?

First outbreak, I just waddled from the bathroom to my bed groaning from pain. I can't wear panties, but I'm getting bloody discharge, so I have to lay on a towel all day long. Struggle eating/brushing my teeth due to mouth sore. Struggle sleeping due to pain and fevers. Switching between hot sitz baths and cold washcloths.
I always thought herpes were just some itchy sores. Boy was I wrong.