Convert mm to inches

I imported a mesh and it scaled it as inches instead of mm. It has been converted into a solid. I have done too much work to start at the beginning. Any good way to change it?

Hi, I’m working on the Porcelain Sweater by le knit, and I’m almost done but I’m super confused by the instructions for folding over the collar and jointing and binding it off. Would appreciate any clearer instructions people could give or even videos of the same technique I should use!
The pattern says this
You will now fold the neck band and knit it in place: pick up sts, with a second 3 mm (US3) needle, 80 cm (32 inches), and without the working yarn. Pick up 1 st in every 2nd st (every purl st) along the cast-on edge = approx. (52) 54 (56) 56 (56) 58 sts. Note: pick up the sts on the inside of the neckband, so any seaming will be hidden inside. Hold the 2 circular needles together so the neck band is folded. Knit stitches together and cast off as follows: knit the first stitch on both needles together, purl 1 (first st on the short needle). Repeat from * to * around while also casting off.

Chapter Two - Part One
First Half
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Outposts sprang up on Mercury and the moons of the Kuiper Belt, each a testament to human ingenuity and perseverance. The harsh landscapes of these worlds posed new challenges, but they also offered new resources and opportunities. The ability to leap across the galaxy using faster-than-light travel encapsulated the dark, relentless drive of the human spirit to explore, expand, and survive.
The network of colonies became interconnected, serving as launch pads for further exploration. The new FTL technologies transformed the galaxy into a neighborhood rather than an infinite wilderness. Each jump through space brought humanity closer to its neighbors in the cosmos, for better or worse.
The universe, once a vast, lonely place, was now a landscape of potential new homes and new challenges. As humanity spread out from the Solar System to the stars, the stage was set for new conflicts and new stories, written not in the light of the Sun but in the starlight of distant worlds.
__________________
Humanity's march to the stars was driven by necessity and survival, stark against the backdrop of Earth's dwindling resources and rising conflicts. After World War I, the foundational theories of rocketry emerged, setting the stage for the later technological leaps that would propel humans into space. The brutal rivalry of the Cold War accelerated these advancements, pushing the Soviet Union and the United States to compete in the space race, a silent war fought with satellites and lunar landings.
The practical applications of these early missions were not just about planting flags but also about testing human limits and technologies in the harsh environment of space. The moon landings of 1969 were a global spectacle. Yet, they also underscored the sheer isolation and vulnerability of human life suspended in the cosmic void.
As the decades rolled on, the international focus shifted from competition to cooperation. The space shuttle program symbolized this new era, with nations coming together to build the International Space Station and to send joint missions to Mars. These efforts turned sci-fi dreams into reality—establishing bases on the moon and sending manned missions to Mars laid the groundwork for future colonization.
The drive to inhabit Mars and the moon grew out of a blend of fear and fascination. Habitats expanded into fully functioning colonies, tapping into local resources to create self-sustaining environments. Technologies developed for extracting water and producing air on these barren worlds were critical for long-term survival.
In the shadows of these achievements, the Alcubierre Warp drive emerged as a revolutionary breakthrough, allowing humanity to leapfrog across vast stellar distances in a blink. The UNV Pathfinder and its sister ship, the UNV Exploration, were equipped with this technology to reconnect with colony ships sent out decades earlier in the Great Exodus. These vessels carried not just new drives but also vital updates in agriculture, medicine, and communications to ensure the colonies could thrive.
Each successful mission with the warp drives was a lifeline, not only physically connecting distant colonies to Earth but also weaving a web of interstellar human culture. Resources and knowledge flowed freely, bolstering each colony's chance of success. These ships were built to endure the extremes of space. They were equipped with advanced life-support systems and autonomous navigation, and they were fortresses navigating the unknown.
Meanwhile, Earth and its solar system colonies were pushed further into space. Massive construction projects like O'Neal Cylinders and space elevators dotted the celestial landscape, marking human progress in the cosmos. Each colony, from Mars's rugged plains to the cloud tops of Venus, developed its distinct culture and identity, united by their shared heritage and mutual challenges.
Space travel was fraught with hazards. Asteroids and solar flares were just the beginning; the cosmos was a place of deep unpredictability and danger. Despite these risks, during this era, not just hundreds of thousands but hundreds of millions of people chose to leave Earth. They embarked on journeys aboard new colony ships. These immense vessels were comparable in size to or even surpassed the O'Neal Cylinder habitats in scale. These ships were behemoths, carrying the very essence of Earth and the seeds of future colonies.
The exodus reached systems like Alpha Centauri A and B, Proxima Centauri, Sirius A and B, Barnard's Star, Luyten 726-8 (BL Ceti and UV Ceti), Ross 154 (V1216 Sagittarii), and Wolf 359. These stars became the bedrock of the United Nations of Sol, the precursor to what would be known as the "Human Sphere." It was a time of unprecedented growth and prosperity for humanity, expanding further than ever before in its history.
As humans settled in these new worlds, they faced not only the physical challenges of new environments but also profound isolation and the psychological burden of being light-years away from Earth. Each colony developed its own way of life, adapting to the unique conditions of their new worlds. The challenges of establishing a foothold in these alien places were immense. Local resources were harvested, and technologies were adapted to create habitable atmospheres and viable ecosystems.
Communication between the colonies and Earth was sparse, limited by the vast distances. Each message took years to travel, even at the speed of light, making each colony effectively isolated in its own right. This isolation led to a variety of cultural evolutions and deviations from Earth's norms, which in turn led to a tapestry of diverse human experiences spread across the stars.
The technologies that allowed these pioneers to travel to and settle new worlds were monumental. Fusion drives, quantum computers, and terraforming equipment were standard on these ships. Life aboard the colony ships was a mix of awe at the cosmic vistas and the mundanity of daily life in confined spaces. Generations were born and died in transit, with only stories of Earth as their legacy.
Each new home was a gamble against the cosmos, and not all were successful. Some colonies failed tragically, and their populations were lost to space or were unable to survive in harsh new environments. But for every failure, there was a story of remarkable success and resilience. The human spirit, driven by a need to explore and expand, thrived in adversity. Humanity never gave up and, over the next century, continued to send colonists to each of these star systems and began the process of colonizing each system.
In the stark expanses of space, every new settlement humanity attempted was a stark challenge against the cosmos, and the failures were as common as the successes. Many colonies were lost—whole populations vanished into the void or succumbed to the inhospitable climes of unfamiliar planets. Despite these setbacks, for every outpost that fell, others sprang up in defiance of the odds, showcases of human resilience and determination.
This relentless push into the unknown was not powered by naïve optimism but rather a hardened will to forge a path, wherever possible, to lay claim to the stars themselves. Humanity's spirit, unbroken by repeated failures, continued to drive its expansion across galaxies. Over the decades, this resolve only hardened as each failed colony became a lesson in survival, a step towards mastering life in the cosmos.
The stark realities of space tested human resolve to its limits. Beyond the safety of the Solar System, the universe emerged not just as a vast place of exploration but as a harsh environment of extreme conditions and existential threats. The initial failures taught valuable lessons in logistics, life support, and sustainable living on alien soil, which were crucial for future endeavors.
Colonization efforts became more sophisticated over time. Humans developed technologies that could convert inhospitable terrains into somewhat livable habitats. Advanced terraforming equipment and life-support systems became standard in new colonies. These tools represented more than mere survival mechanisms; they were symbols of humanity's unyielding quest to inhabit the stars.
As colonies spread further into the galaxy, each new venture was underpinned by an increasingly detailed understanding of interstellar travel and survival. The experiences gathered from every failed settlement informed the next, creating a cumulative body of knowledge that bolstered human persistence. The drive to expand took on a rhythm of its own, a cycle of trial, error, and success that slowly but surely extended the reach of human civilization.
This cycle was reflected in the evolution of colonial policies and technologies. From the early days of rudimentary habitats to the development of massive, self-sustaining complexes that could house thousands, the growth was palpable. Each successful colony served as a proof of concept for the next. With each launch, humanity's footprint in the galaxy grew larger.
The colonies themselves varied wildly—a testament to human ingenuity and the diverse environments encountered. Some were burrowed into asteroids, others sprawled across red Martian sands or nestled in the volatile cloud tops of Venus. Each presented unique challenges and required bespoke solutions to make them habitable.
Interstellar ships, equipped with the latest in warp drive technology, ferried resources between these colonies. They were lifelines essential for maintaining the flow of essential supplies and personnel. These vessels were also carriers of culture and connection, linking distant humans across the void of space.
Despite the vast distances and slow communications, a network of human presence began to stitch together disparate points of light into a coherent tapestry of colonies. This network was more than a mere chain of outposts; it was the backbone of a burgeoning interstellar society—a network that held potential not only for survival but for a new era of human prosperity.
However, this expansion was not without its darker aspects. The harsh conditions of space required strict governance and often harsh penalties for breaches of colony protocol. Life in these new worlds was rigidly structured, a necessity to maintain order in environments where even a small mistake could be fatal.
Each new settlement was a dice roll against the vast uncertainties of space, and many did not survive. Failures were frequent; entire colonies vanished into the void or succumbed to the inhospitable conditions of their newfound planets. The loss of life was substantial, casting a shadow over the ambitious interstellar expansion efforts. However, each disaster also hardened the resolve of those who remained. The cumulative knowledge gained from these failures informed future endeavors, refining the protocols and technologies needed to endure and thrive in alien environments.
Despite the high stakes and frequent setbacks, human resolve remained unshaken. The determination to push forward, to establish a foothold in the cosmos, was fueled by necessity and the innate human drive to explore. As each failed colony became a lesson learned, the strategies for survival evolved. More robust life support systems were developed, and habitats were designed to be more adaptable to the unpredictable conditions of new worlds.
The stark reality of these endeavors was that many who left Earth would never return. They journeyed knowing the risks—trading the safety of their home planet for the promise of a new start on distant, uncharted worlds. This was the cost of progress, paid willingly by those driven by a vision of humanity's future among the stars.
With each new wave of colonists, technology and experience accumulated, reducing the risks and increasing the chances of success. Ships became more advanced, equipped with better navigation systems and life-support capabilities. Colonization techniques also improved, with genetic engineering playing a crucial role in adapting human physiology to extraterrestrial environments.
The harshness of space demanded a relentless pursuit of efficiency and sustainability. Resources were scarce, and logistical challenges were immense. The vast distances between colonies meant that each had to be largely self-sufficient. Communication lags, sometimes spanning years, forced these communities to develop a high degree of autonomy.
Over the centuries, this relentless expansion forged a new breed of human. These spacefarers were tough, adaptable, and fiercely independent. Their lives, spent on the frontier of human existence, were a testament to the species' tenacity. They cultivated their new worlds, turning barren landscapes into bustling colonies. These settlements eventually grew into hubs of culture and technology, distinct yet still connected to their ancestral home by shared history and common humanity.
Yet, the expansion was not without its darker aspects. The isolation of distant colonies often led to psychological strain and societal breakdown. In some cases, governance structures collapsed under the weight of external pressures and internal conflicts. Pirates and marauders, drawn by the wealth of fledgling colonies, became a significant threat, leading to the establishment of militarized zones and the deployment of defense forces.
As humans adapted to life in space, they also had to contend with the presence of other sentient species. Initial interactions were cautious and fraught with tension and misunderstandings. Some encounters led to conflict, others to alliances. These relationships were complex, shaped by a mix of diplomacy, trade, and, occasionally, warfare.
Humanity's venture into interstellar space fundamentally transformed its cultural and identity landscapes. As humans spread across the stars, encountering diverse environments and nurturing colonies on planets ranging from Mars to far-flung systems, the challenges of survival and the ethical dimensions of expansion pressed hard on their collective psyche.
Values long held sacred on Earth were reevaluated in the face of new realities. The discovery of life—fauna and flora—on other planets during these colonization efforts marked a pivotal shift. While no sentient alien species were encountered, the existence of alien ecosystems was profound. It highlighted not only humanity's isolation in the cosmos but also its responsibilities.
On Alpha Centauri, the first successful integration of Earth's lifeforms with alien biomes set a precedent. Genetic manipulation technologies were refined, allowing Earth's organisms to coexist with and enhance these extraterrestrial habitats. Conservation efforts were paramount; preserving the integrity and diversity of alien ecosystems became a moral imperative as much as a scientific endeavor.
Each colony, from the red dust of Mars to the lush jungles of distant exoplanets, became a testbed for these principles. They were microcosms where human ingenuity, ethical considerations, and ecological stewardship intersected. Through these experiences, humanity did not just spread through space; it grew, evolved, and redefined what it meant to be human in the vast expanse of the universe.
Through all these trials, the human spirit's resilience shone brightly. Never deterred by the enormity of their challenges, humans continued to push the boundaries of their known universe. Each colony, each ship, and each life represented a thread in the vast tapestry of human endeavor in space—a relentless march toward an uncertain but ceaselessly pursued future.
Chapter Two
Beginning of Entry…
StarDate: Redacted
Perspective: Noah Stark
Species: Human, Humanoid Mammalian Species, no tail.
Description: 5 feet 2 inches [1.6 meters] to 6 feet 9 inches [2.1 meters] average height. 185 lbs [84 kilograms] average weight.
Longevity: 70 to 500-year life expectancy with life extension medical tech.
Unique Trait: Resilience and Indomitable Will.
Vessel: ICV The Argonaut
Location: New Eden Star Cluster
Noah, his gaze locked on the viewport, watched the ancient ship float aimlessly among the asteroids. The ICV The Argonaut, under his skilled control, edged closer, enabling the deployment of EVA suits for inspection. Behind him, his mother, Gwendolyn Stark, and his sisters, Jane and Joan, prepared for the walk, their movements a blend of anticipation and professionalism. The ship, a silent relic of a bygone era, revealed no signs of life, a fact confirmed by both Shinra Hinaba and Serenity, the Argonaut's AI.
This discovery, hidden among the celestial debris, was a treasure. It wasn't just a ship; it was a gateway to unparalleled recognition for the Shinra-Stark-Daiwa Mining Group. While the Argonaut and its crew focused on this historical artifact, the rest of the fleet mined the surrounding asteroids, harvesting resources critical for the survival of distant colonies.
Hinaba's voice, laced with a mix of excitement and concern, snapped Noah back to the present. "Focus, Noah!" she said, her fist-bumping Noah's shoulder in a friendly gesture. "We've got a lot riding on bringing this ship in intact."
"I know, I know! Just relax, Hinaba! I've got this," Noah assured her, his attention riveted to the controls. His reputation as the fleet's top pilot wasn't unfounded, a fact even the skeptical private military contractors had come to acknowledge. Almost as if summoned by their conversation, the Director's face appeared on the communications screen next to Hinaba, an uncanny timing that suggested he was closely monitoring their progress.
It was then that Director Shinra Senzo's image flickered onto the communications screen, his timing almost too perfect. "What's your status, Noah?" he asked, a brief glance toward his daughter betraying his deeper concerns. Despite his reservations about Noah's closeness with Hinaba, he was willing to see where their partnership might lead, a stance influenced by discussions with Noah's father.
"We're in!" Gwendolyn's voice crackled through the comms, marking their successful approach. But their moment of triumph was shattered by a distress signal, a desperate call cutting through the static. Elaine and Beth Frost, Noah's cousins, scrambled to decipher it, their faces etched with growing alarm.
After a tense moment, Beth's face drained of color, but it was Eliane who eventually shared the grim news, which was dire: "An unknown force has attacked New Eden. Their defenses are falling…" The weight of their words hung heavy in the bridge. An unseen adversary had breached the colony's defenses, leaving them vulnerable. The realization that any hope of immediate assistance from the USSA or SFR was weeks or even a full stellar month away if at all, underscored the gravity of their situation. With the defense fleet in ruins, their only hope lay with the ICV Ishimura, and the hired PMC mercenary group onboard, initially engaged to fend off pirates, might now be their only hope against this new and formidable threat.
Silence enveloped the bridge as the magnitude of the crisis dawned on them. They were alone, far from help, facing a threat of unknown proportions. Noah felt a tightness in his jaw, anger and resolve mixing in equal measure. The prospect of what lay ahead was daunting, yet there was no room for doubt. They had to act swiftly.
Gwendolyn's voice broke the silence, her command clear. "We need to act, and quickly. Our priority is the safety of this crew and ensuring we can lend aid to New Eden. Noah, plot a course back. We have to prepare for what's to come."
Hinaba, her usual levity gone, nodded. "We have the Ishimura, and we're not defenseless. Let's make sure we're ready for whatever's out there."
As Noah adjusted the ship's course, a sense of determined urgency took hold. They were heading back, not just to confront a threat, but to defend their home, their people.
Director Senzo's voice crackled through the communication channel, his tone tinged with impatience yet seeking reassurance. "It would be great to know what the status of your progress is, Noah," he pressed, his words carrying a sense of urgency.
Noah could sense the weight of expectation in Director Senzo's inquiry. Despite the pressure, Noah remained composed, and his years of experience in the field allowed him to maintain a calm demeanor even in the face of such scrutiny. With a steady voice, he replied, "We're making steady progress, Director. I'll provide you with a detailed update shortly."

He paused as he focused on the holo-Feed in front of him and analyzed the available data in real-time thanks to his military-grade holo-NeuralSyne Implant. "We're adjusting course," Noah replied, his tone firm yet marked by an undercurrent of urgency. "Heading back to New Eden. We'll be ready." 

In the silence that followed, a collective resolve fortified them. They were facing the unknown, as the derelict ship could bring untold bounty from within its hull.
Director Senzo's command carved through the static a clear mandate that reset their priorities. "Noah, before you depart the asteroid belt, I am dispatching a Porter Tug to commandeer the derelict ship. It's our top priority... Get that ship secure before you Skip Jump back to the ICV Argos-1. That is a Prime Directive!" His voice, a blend of authority and urgency, left no room for debate.
Noah, hands steady on the controls, glanced briefly at the communications panel. The weight of the directive pressed into him, a stark reminder of the stakes involved. He turned, catching the gaze of his crew, a silent signal that it was time to adapt their plan. The crew exchanged quick, significant glances, each understanding the gravity of the order. The derelict ship, an ancient relic floating among the asteroids, was not just another find—it was a piece of history, potentially holding untold knowledge and value. The directive from Director Shinra Senzo underscored its importance, not just to their mission but to the broader ambitions of the Shinra-Stark-Daiwa Mining Group.
Noah's mind went back over the meaning of what such an order entailed. Refusing to follow the directive would most certainly spell the end of his career. On one hand, he wanted to help those in need and who were under siege by an unknown force. The New Eden Star Cluster was not just a single system but a series of star systems in close proximity to one another. Noah and the rest of the ICV Argos-1 collective fleet were mining ore around Eden-159; currently, the planets were still being colonized, but in ten years, that would change. Our job was to mine ore to return to Eden-109, one of the 1,119 star systems in the New Eden Cluster.
The directive was clear: any new discovery in the outer rims of human space takes top priority above all other mandates, and the crew of The Argonaut was ready. Despite the risks, the potential rewards were too significant to ignore. As preparations for the operation began in earnest, the sense of unity and purpose among the crew was palpable. Each member knew their role and was prepared to execute it with precision. Noah Stark, standing firm at the helm, nodded sharply. "Understood, Director. We'll secure the derelict and rendezvous with the Argos-1 as planned." His voice was calm, a stark contrast to the racing thoughts behind his composed exterior. The task was daunting, yet his confidence in his crew's abilities was unshakeable.
Shinra Hinaba, her eyes reflecting a mix of determination and concern, shifted in her search. Her fingers were already dancing across the console, setting up communication channels. Her role as the ship's specialist meant she was well-versed in the technicalities of such operations, and her confidence was discernible. "We'll need to coordinate with the tug. I can set up a direct comms link and guide their approach." Her voice, usually light and teasing in their private moments, now carried the professional edge of her role.
Gwendolyn Stark, the matriarch and seasoned explorer, nodded in agreement. "Time is of the essence. Let's secure that ship and make sure it's safe for the tug. We can't afford any delays." Her experience shone through, her demeanor calm yet commanding, rallying her children and the crew with a few choice words. "Everything is by the book. This ship could be a significant find for us," she stated, her voice firm.
Elaine, renowned for her cool demeanor under pressure, exchanged a glance of shared determination with Beth. With a nod, they moved to their stations, their movements precise and efficient, a testament to years of seamless coordination in the face of adversity.
Beth, known for her unwavering focus and quick thinking, shared a silent understanding with Elaine. Together, they pivoted to their respective stations, their synchronization seamless and instinctual. In the heart of chaos, their unity forged a stronghold of resolve, a beacon of stability amid the storm.
"We're on it, Mom," Elaine stated, her hands flying over her console, prepping the EVA suits for another walk.
Beth said decisively, "We'll be ready to assist the Tug team with anything they need." Beth nodded in agreement, both sisters moving to gather the necessary gear. Their well-honed skills in extravehicular activities made them indispensable for the task at hand.
Elaine intonated as she focused on the external sensors: "I'll keep an eye out for any debris or potential hazards for the tug. We don't want any surprises."
Grace Frost, the voice of strategy and foresight, considered the logistics. "Once the ship is secure, we'll need to plot a careful course back. The extra mass will affect our jump calculations."
Jennifer Stark, my youngest sister, a blend of youth and sharp intellect, nodded. Jennifer's hands moved to assist Shinra with the communications setup. Meanwhile, Jamie reviewed the ship's specs, ensuring they had all the data needed for a smooth operation. "Let's ensure we have all the data we need for a smooth operation," she said, her tone serious, betraying the gravity of their task.
Jamie Stark, also my youngest sister, focused on the ship's specs. Her hands moved deftly over the controls as she reviewed the data. "Absolutely," she chimed in, her voice steady as she continued her meticulous review. "We can't afford any oversights if we want this mission to succeed." Her words echoed Jennifer's sentiment, highlighting the importance of thorough preparation.
Jamie added, "I'll run a diagnostic on the derelict's structural integrity. We need to know it can withstand the jump."
Director Senzo's image flickered on the screen once more, a stern reminder of the urgency. "Even if you return now, the fleet can't make the FTL jump until all ships have returned to their hangars and docking bays. You have time to tug the derelict ship back to the ICV Argos-1."
Noah, absorbing every detail, finally responded. "Understood, Director. We'll secure the ship and ensure it's ready for the tug. Argonaut out." His voice, firm and confident, belied the racing thoughts of potential complications and the precision required for their new task.
The directive was clear, and the crew of the Argonaut was ready. Despite the risks, the potential rewards were too significant to ignore. As preparations for the operation began in earnest, the sense of unity and purpose among the crew was palpable. The bridge buzzed with activity, each member of the crew moving with purposeful speed. The Argonaut, once a silent observer among the stars, was now a hive of focused energy, ready to execute a directive that could very well shift the balance of their task. Each member knew their role and was prepared to execute it with precision. The arduous task of securing the derelict ship was directive from above; it was a challenge they were all eager to meet head-on.
"Let's get to work," Noah said, his gaze sweeping over his crew and his family. "We have a ship to secure." His statement, simple yet laden with unspoken responsibility, set them into motion, each person aware of the part they played in the intricate dance of space exploration and survival. Aboard the Argonaut, there was no room for doubt. Only action, determination, and the collective will to succeed in the face of the unknown. Then, they would make the FTL jump to Eden-109 to aid the colonists under siege.
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I accidentally posted this to my username instead of my subreddit so here is is:
The Mortgage, Part 3
“Fuck,” I said as I drove to work in the old beater that only started on the fourth try because it could tell that I was pissed off. Ray’s case started at two o’clock, and I was heading to the office to get ready. “Fuck fuck fuckity fucking fuck. Fuck.” I’d wanted to tell Angela about Ray’s case, and how I was sorry that I hadn’t wanted to help him, but now I would, I would help him, and I would win, but then I’d gotten her all riled up on something else, something totally different, something way more serious.
My wife had given me a triple ultimatum: fix things up with her father, save idiot Ray from Sy-Co Corp., and somehow find a downpayment for the place she wanted to buy, in the little townhouse infill project in Bixity. It was like demanding I do a double bank shot, and then run over to the baseball diamond and hit a home run after first pointing to where it would land, Babe Ruth style.
Angela was mad at me, seriously mad. She’d slipped out that morning before I was even awake, sliding quietly past me on the couch. I didn’t realize she was gone until I heard the faint click of the front door closing. I jumped up, tripped over a blanket, and by the time I got up and my robe on, the elevator down the hall dinged, and Angela was gone before I opened the apartment door.
I swore at myself some more and pounded the steering wheel, “I fucked up,” I said, several times as I hit the wheel over and over again, until I accidentally honked it, and then looked all sheepish when the guy in front of me gave me the finger. I reached my office without further incident, but instead of walking in the front door, I went further down the hall, and into the office of Mark Cecil-Rowe, Barrister, LL.D, the man with the finest speaking voice I ever heard. When I entered his office I forgot for a minute about Angela and her father and sleeping on the couch the night before. I forget about everything, except the reason that I had come to Cecil-Rowe’s office: to stump him with a legal problem that I had solved, but which I was pretty sure he could not. In other words, I had come to preen and to brag and to boast. No one likes a showoff, and I had come to show off. I put my hand on the door and turned the knob. After a brief pause, I flung open the door.
“I’m a goddamn genius,” I said as I strolled into the older man’s office.
I noticed the echo of a hastily closed desk drawer hanging in the air. In Aaron’s office, where I rented space, a sudden act of concealment implied cocaine, but with Cecil-Rowe, the item in question was probably a mickey of vodka. I had the sense that he’d been drinking a bit before I arrived, but his powers of observation were unimpaired, and when he looked into my face, his expression showed sympathy, and actual pain.
“What have you done now?” he said, as set the papers before him to one side, and readied himself to hear my latest tale of legal brilliance.
“I’m a genius,” I said.
“Oh dear. Have a seat.”
“No really, I am. I’m a genius. I got this case that everyone says you can’t win, but I’m gonna win it, and when I do, I’m gonna look like a genius.” Cecil-Rowe gave me a sad indulgent smile.
“Whenever you tell me you’re a genius, I am always concerned about what is to follow. When you get wrapped up in what you call your genius, you tend to ignore the more mundane things we lawyers have to do to win a case. You think you’re going to win by genius alone.”
“Let me tell you why I’m a goddamn genius.” With effort I wiped the smug, self-satisfied expression that was on my face.
“Tell me why you’re a genius,” Cecil-Rowe said, “while I pour us a coffee.” He heaved his bulky body up from his chair and shuffled over to a counter. He picked up a carafe of hot coffee sitting on a hot plate, and poured two cups. “Speak,” he said, handing me one. I took a sip of the coffee, and told Cecil-Rowe the tale of Cousin Ray: his purchase of a franchise from Sy-Co Corp, its swift demise, the crash and burn in Commercial Court, the Minutes of Settlement, the seventy-one kilometer limit, and lastly, Sy-Co’s motion scheduled for two p.m. that very day, seeking an interim injunction shutting down Ray’s place.
Cecil-Rowe absorbed all this without the need to take notes. Instead, he sat back while he eyed me, taking the occasional sip of coffee, and smiling at the extravagant flourishes and details that brought out Ray’s story to full effect.
“Obviously Ray is dead on arrival,” he said, “but I guess this is the part where you tell me how you’re going to win.”
So I told him how I was going to win, but it didn’t have the desired effect. “I told ya I’m a genius, Mr. C,” cueing him to applaud, to admit what a brilliant lawyer I was. But there was no applause from Mark Cecil-Rowe. He looked at me without so much as a smile.
“You can cling to that genius notion as a consolation prize, after you get whipped this afternoon in court.”
“No way,” I said, “not a chance. I got this thing won hands down. I’m gonna kick ass in court today and--”
“And how exactly do you plan to do that, if you don’t have evidence?”
“What?”
“Evidence, Calledinthe9os. It’s what lawyers like me use to beat geniuses like you.”
“But I’m gonna win without proof. I don’t need proof. The argument I’m gonna make, relies on simple facts that are totally obvious, so the judge is gonna--” Cecil-Rowe stuck up his hand.
“Stop right there. I know what’s coming. You’re going to ask the judge to take *judicial notice.”
And he was right. That was exactly what I was going to do.
There are some things so obvious that you didn’t have to prove them, things that everyone knew. You didn’t have to prove that water froze at zero degrees and boiled at a hundred, or that Bixity was between West Bay and East Bay.
“You got it,” I said, “judicial notice all the way.”
“You’re going to tell the judge that the centerpiece of your argument, the lynchpin of your case is a fact known to pretty well everyone, and so you don’t need proof.”
“Exactly,” I said. Cecil-Rowe took another sip of his coffee, and left me hanging in the silence for a while before he spoke.
“If that’s true, then why does coming up with that argument make you a genius?”
“Oh, I said,”I didn’t think of that.”
“It is acceptable to rely on judicial notice for minor, ancillary points. But you never should walk into court thinking that the court will take judicial notice of your entire defence. It’s just too risky.”
“But how am I going to rustle up a witness in time for this afternoon?”
“Worry about that after you leave my office. I can’t help you with that. What I want to know, is why you’re doing this at the last minute.”
“What makes you think I’m doing this at the last minute?”
“Because you never would have resorted to judicial notice if you were properly prepared. If you’d opened this case a bit earlier, you’ve have everything lined up. But you got to work on it late, and so you want to rely on judicial notice. You’ve messed up, Calledinthe90s, and you know what my rule is when you mess up.” Cecil-Rowe didn’t extend aid to me, until I admitted the error of my ways. It was infuriating, but he was inflexible. So I fessed up.
“My idiot cousin Ray’s been trying to retain me for almost two weeks, but I was putting him off because I was mad at him. So now my wife’s mad at me, and if I don’t win this case, I’m dead. Plus her dad’s mad at me too and --” My brain roared into overdrive, a mess of family and law and fear, and at the centre of it, thoughts of Angela’s anger and her father. My mind took off, and then came to an instant halt at a helpful destination.
“Yes?” Cecil-Rowe said.
“Sorry. I just realized how to solve the evidence problem. Look, can I ask you about the thing I actually came here to ask you about?”
“You have a problem that’s worse than having no evidence? What could be worse than -- oh. You don’t have a retainer. Your client doesn't have any money.”
“Exactly. How do I get paid? That’s the problem.” I explained that Ray had no money, as in none, and that if he did have money, he wouldn’t spend it on me. Instead, he’d go back downtown and throw his cash at some big firm, who would take on his case, and proceed to lose it in a calm, careful, sober manner, ending in a reporting letter to Ray telling him that he’d lost.
“Now that’s a problem I can solve,” Cecil-Rowe said.
“Really? ‘Cause I can’t see a way around it. I think I’m gonna have to do this for free, and that really pisses me off.” Cecil-Rowe shook his head.
“You may or may not get paid, but you can set things up so that if you win, you’ll win pretty good.”
“How? Ray’s a deadbeat. Tapped out.”
“But is he desperate?”
“Totally. The first time he failed, he lost his own money, but if he goes under this time, he’s taking family money with him, and he’ll be the black sheep forever.”
“And he’s using family to emotionally blackmail you into helping him?’
“Like no shit. That’s the part that pisses me off the most. I’m like a goddamn slave, being forced to work for free.”
“Never fear, young apprentice. I have just the thing in mind.” He reached into a drawer, and pulled out a form. “Fill in the blanks, and have him sign.”
I looked it over, and saw that the document was a retainer agreement. I whistled. “Holy shit. If he signs this, he’s almost my slave.”
“Close, but not quite” Cecil-Rowe said, “the Latin term for this is "contractus pro venditione animae"”. It’s the ultimate retainer agreement. Once Ray signs that, you own any cause of action he has against the person suing him. You can settle the case on any terms you like, and you get to keep whatever proceeds there are.” Cecil-Rowe placed the folder back in a drawer, and from his manner you could tell that the interview was over.
“Awesome, Mr. C. I’ll call you from Commercial Court when we’re done.”
“Commercial Court?” he said.
“Yeah, Commercial Court.”
“This just keeps getting worse. Take notes, Calledinthe90s, while I school you on Commercial Court. Commercial Court is a jungle, and without preparation, you’ll get savaged.”
“That’s what happened to Ray when--”
“Take notes, young apprentice,” he said, tossing me a pad and a pen. He started to lecture, and I took notes that I have with me to this day, in a safe deposit box downstairs in the vault at Mega Bank Main Branch.
* * *
By the time Cecil-Rowe finished schooling me, it was close to ten, and the case started at two. I didn’t have much time. I ran down the hall to my office, and called Ray’s restaurant. No answer. Then I called Ray’s house. I expected to get Ray’s wife, but the man himself answered.
“You’re not at work. Why aren’t you at work?”
“Sy-Co Corp served all my employees with a cease and desist letter. They all got scared and took off. The place is shut down.”
“You gotta fax machine at home?” He did, and asked why.
“I’m taking your case, but only if you sign the paper I’m about to send and fax it back.” I sent the fax, and five minutes later it came back signed, and it was official: Ray had sold me his legal soul.
I went out to the parking lot, got into my beater and drove fast. In less than thirty minutes I reached my destination. I knocked on the door, and when it opened, my diminutive mother-in-law poked out her head. “What a pleasant surprise,” she said.
“Sorry, Mrs. M, but I’m in a super hurry. I gotta rush to get to court to help Ray. But first, I gotta speak to Dr. M.”
“He’s not here,” she said.
“Not here?”
“He’s on his way to his bridge game. He left just a few minutes ago.”
“Where’s the club?”
“He’s walking there,” she said, and pointed down the street.
“Thanks.” I got into my car and headed where Mrs. M had pointed, passing big houses and new project with an “Opening Soon” sign. And walking past it was the figure of Dr. M.
“Hey, Dr. M,” I called out the window. He stopped and looked around, startled. But he didn’t see me, not at first.
“It’s me, Dr. M. Me, Calledin90s.” He leaned forward as if to see me better. I got out of the car.
“Is something wrong with Angela? Or the baby?”
“No, no not at all, sorry to scare you, it’s nothing like that. I need your help.”
“Oh.” He started walking again, and now it was my turn to be a bit stunned, watching my father-in-law walk away from me. I caught up with him in a few quick strides.
“Listen, I really need your help.”
“And I really need to get to a bridge game.”
“This isn’t about me. It’s about Ray.” That brought him to a halt. He turned to me, angrier even than he’d been the night before.
“Did you drive all the way out here just to make fun of me? To remind me of how you won, distracting me with nonsense about Ray’s case?”
“I mean it,” I said, “I can win Ray’s case. I can prove it in a few words.”
“Prove it, then.” So I did. I spoke words, only a few words, but they were the right words to speak to Dr. M, for the words I spoke were in his language, words that he understood perfectly.
“I understand,” he said, “you’ve come to boast some more, to prove that you were right after all.”
“I want to win Ray’s case, but I don’t have any proof of what I’m saying.”
“You don’t need to prove that two plus two is four.”
“This, I gotta prove, and I need you to help me prove it. I need you to come to court with me, as my witness.”
“I can’t do that. I didn’t witness anything.”
“As my witness. My expert witness.” Unlike a normal witness, an expert witness can give an opinion. An expert is there not to advocate, I explained to Dr. M but to instruct, to teach.
“My bridge partner won’t be very happy,” he said.
“But Ray will, and so will Mrs. M and Angela and--”
“Very well. Do you have a cell phone? We can call the bridge club from my car.”
* * *
We were on the highway getting close to the downtown exit, when my wife called my cell phone. Back then cell phone service was super expensive and my wife only used it for emergencies. Or when she was really angry. I picked up the phone, wondering which it would be.
“I’m so happy that you made things up with my father,” she said.
“How did you know?”
“My mother called. She says you took him with you, that you went out together.”
“He’s with me right now,” I said.
“Where are you going?”
“To court. Going to court to win Ray’s case for him.”
“And you brought my father with you to watch?” She was so happy, I could hear in her voice that she was smiling. “That’s a great way to bond with him, Calledinthe90s. Look, I’m sorry I got so mad at you earlier, I really am. My dad’s a bit too sensitive and--”
“Sorry, Angela, your dad’s not coming to watch me.”
“Why is he with you, then?”
“He’s my witness,” I said.
“What?”
“His expert witness,” Dr. M said, loudly enough for Angela to hear.
My wife’s anger exploded into the phone. She wanted to know how I could expose her elderly, vulnerable father to the stress of a court case. I tried to tell her how I needed him, how there was literally no one else I could turn to, that her father was an expert, a true expert, and the judge was legally bound to believe him, but Angela heard none of this.
“Look,’ I said, “I promise you that--” And then I lowered the phone and pushed the red button, terminating the call. I’d learned that the best way to hang up on someone, was to do it when I was doing the talking. That way it looked like the call had dropped.
“I’m going to steal that move,” Dr. M said.
We rolled into the parking lot. I grabbed the cloth bag out of the back of my car, the bag that held my law robes and shirt and tabs, plus the other stuff I needed for court. It was one-thirty, still thirty minutes to go, not a lot of time to get robed and ready for court. It was just past one-forty five when I, with Dr. M in tow, opened the door to a courtroom on the eighth floor of an old insurance building that had been converted into a courthouse, the home of Commercial Court.
“Commercial Court is an exclusive club,” Cecil-Rowe had explained to me earlier that day, “the legal playground of the rich and powerful. They’ll know instantly that you’re not one of them.” And he was right. It was clear from the moment I walked in that I did not belong, for I was the only lawyer in robes. Everyone else was wearing a suit, and not some cheap thing off the rack like I wore.
There were a half-dozen lawyers present, and after they saw me, they exchanged knowing looks about the stranger amongst them. I ignored them, and walked up to the Registrar. I told him the case I was on, and he signed me in.
“First time in Commercial Court?” he said, eyeing my robes. “You know you don’t have to be robed in Commercial Court.” In other Superior Courts, you always had to bring your robes and get all dressed up. But Commercial Court had its own set of rules, and in the court for rich people, their lawyers did not have to wear robes.
“You’re here on the Sy-Co case?” a young woman asked. She was a junior like me, give a year or two either way. She was dressed in the finest downtown counsel fashion, some designer thing that Angela would know if she saw it.
“Just got retained,” I said.
“You know there’s no adjournments, right? We don’t do adjournments in Commercial Court. I’m just trying to be helpful, because I don’t think you've been here before. You know you don’t have to be robed, right?
“So I heard.”
“So where’s your material? You haven’t served anything, so how do you plan to argue your case?”
“I gotta witness,” I said.
She smiled. “There’s no viva voce evidence, either. Affidavit only.”
“We’ll see what the judge says.” There was a knock from the other side of the door to the judge’s chambers, and then the man himself entered.
I was amazed to see that even the judge wasn’t wearing a robe; instead, he was wearing a light coloured suit and a bright blue bow tie. He was dressed as good as the lawyers, all part of the downtown Commercial Court club, the playground of the richest and most powerful corporations in the City.
“Commercial Court’s not like other courts,” Cecil-Rowe told me earlier that day, explaining that most cases were over in fifteen minutes or less. A plaintiff showed up with some papers, and had a short consultation with the judge. The judge signed an order granting an injunction, or taking away a man’s business, or freezing his money. Commercial Court is where you went to get quick and simple court orders that eviscerated your opponent before the case even got going.
Defendants would appear sometimes in Commercial Court, Cecil-Rowe explained, but it was usually their last time up. Defendants always died a quick death in Commercial Court.
The judge took his seat, and then looked over the lawyers before him. His eyes moved along, and then stopped when they reached me, the one lawyer who was not like the others.
“You don’t need robes in Commercial Court,” the judge said to me.
“I’ll remember that for next time,” I said.
“What case are you on?”
I told him.
“He’s filed no responding materials,” my opponent said, “nothing at all.”
“I’m just vetting the list,” the judge said, “I’ll circle back to you two in a few minutes.” I listend while the judge vetted the rest of the afternoon list: a Mareva, plus a Norwich order, with counsel on those cases sent away in a matter of minutes.
Now the courtroom was almost empty, just the judge, two lawyers, the registrar and my star witness and father-in-law, Dr. M, who sat in the back of the courtroom dressed in an old business suit, put on hastily at his place two hours earlier, when I urged him to hurry it up, to not waste so much time on picking a suit.
“Back to you,” the judge said, addressing my opponent, “I thought this was an uncontested matter. That’s what your confirmation sheet said.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honour, but I didn’t know until I got here that the case was defended.”
“I got retained at the last minute,” I said, “barely three hours ago, the day after I read the papers. But I’m ready to go, ready to argue the case on the merits, so long as you grant me an indulgence, and let me call my witness, to let him testify in person instead of by affidavit, there being no time for me to draft anything.”
Opposing counsel was on her feet. “That’s not how things are done in Commercial Court,” she said, “or any court that I know of, for that matter. My friend (that’s what they make lawyers call each other in court, ‘my friend,’ even though you might hate the other guy’s guts),” the lawyer said, “my friend should have served his responding materials and filed them with the court. Instead, he’s taken us totally by surprise.”
“I’m sorry my friend is surprised by opposition,” I said, “but then consider, it’s my client’s livelihood that’s at stake. If my friend gets her injunction, Ray Telewu’s business is dead, and he loses everything. So yes, my client opposes the injunction, and yes, I’d like to call evidence.”
The judge didn’t consult the papers before him nor the books, but instead, he looked up at the big white clock on the courtroom wall. Its hands said two-fifteen.
“How long will your witness take, counsel?”
“In chief, ten minutes.” I’d practiced with Dr. M on the way in, and I was pretty sure he could do it in five, but I gave him a bit of extra time, just in case.
“We’ve got about two hours,” the judge said, “but I want to be fair to you and your client. Let’s take a fifteen minute recess so you can get instructions. Either we go ahead today with viva voce evidence, or we adjourn, and that will give Calledinthe90s time to file responding materials.”
When everyone came back, the junior’s boss was there, Senior Counsel, a heavy weight, one of those big guys downtown. Plus they brought this guy from Sy-Co Corp, the head of some bullshit division, with some bullshit title, Head of whatever, so that’s the title I’ll give him here. He was The Head. He was the man, the big cheese, the signer of the affidavit on which Sy-Co relied that day.
“What’s he doing here?” I asked Senior Counsel.
He stared at me, all lean and steel grey, looking every inch the hard hitting lawyer that commanded the biggest fees. “If you’re calling a live witness, then so can we. The Head will give evidence today, in advance of your client, so that the judge hears it from him first.” His junior smirked at me, and the two of them sat down, delighted that they’d thought of a way to one up me.
Except that they’d done it by exposing their client to cross-examination. The judge came in, allowed the Head to testify, and when he was done, I stood up.
“Just a few questions,” I said. Senior Counsel was stunned for an instant, and then he stood.
“This serves no purpose, Your Honour. The witness has confirmed the simple facts of his affidavit, and there’s no disputing it. Ray Telewu opened a restaurant less than seventy-one kilometres from Bixity City Hall, and that’s in breach of the Minutes of Settlement he signed.”
I did not bother to respond. Instead, I just stood, and I started to ask questions.
“Have a look at that map in your affidavit,” I said, and he did. I picked up my copy, and tore the map out of it. I passed it up to him.
“What do you notice about this map?”
“That it’s accurate,” the Head said, repeating his evidence in chief, amplifying it, talking about how the map contained perfect measurement.
“You will notice that the map is flat,” I said, laying it on the witness box before him.
“Of course it’s flat. That’s what maps are. Maps are flat.”
“But the earth is round,” I said, “or more properly, a sphere.” Senior Counsel was on his feet in an instant.
“What difference does that make?” he said.
“What you’ll hear from my expert witness, is that a flat map cannot accurately show Earth’s curves. A flat map distorts distances, and in this case, reduces them.”
“But that can’t be by very much.”
“In this case, by just over twenty meters,” Dr. M said from the back of the court.
“That’s my expert witness, the esteemed Dr. M.” I didn’t actually say Dr. M. Instead, I said his real name. But I’m not going to use the real names of my family here, so I’ll just keep calling him Dr. M. “Dr. M was a professor of Physics at the University of Bixity for almost thirty years. He has published numerous papers on particle physics, and is the first Canadian winner of the Wolf Prize for physics.”

• * * *

It went downhill after that for Sy-Co Corp. My father-in-law testified, explaining in simple language, language that even a child could understand, that the Earth was a sphere, that the shortest distance between two points on Earth was a curve, not a straight line. He summarized his calculations in plain English, dumbing down the math, so that everyone present imagined, if only for the moment, that they shared his understanding of a difficult mathematical equation.
Senior Counsel tried to cross-examine Dr. M, but it did not go well, my father-in-law indulging him, gently chiding him, continuing his explanations until the lawyer sat down, defeated by Dr. M’s mastery of the subject,his own lack of preparation and his inability to improvise. When counsel said that he had no further questions, the judge addressed us all.
“I’m not going to reserve, and I don’t think I need to tell everyone why. I think it will take about a minute for me to write a decision saying that the Earth is not flat. I’ll give you some more time after that, but after fifteen minutes, I”ll be back to render my decision.” He rose, everyone bowed, and he disappeared behind the door to judge’s chambers.
I pulled a piece of paper out of my file, and slammed it on the desk before Senior Counsel and his junior. “Fill in the blanks, and sign,” I said.
Dr. M’s head shot up at the commotion, and he shuffled over to see what was going on.
“What’s this?” Senior Counsel said, picking up the paper I gave him..
“Minutes of Settlement. You fill in a number, a big number, for the costs you gotta pay me. Your client signs, and then we’re done.” Senior Counsel opened his mouth to bargain, but I overrode him.
“You know your client’s going to lose; the judge made that obvious. Hurry up if you want to settle; we don’t have much time.”
At the end of most Canadian court cases, the loser has to pay at least part of the winner’s legal fees. That’s the way it’s been since forever, and I think it’s a good rule. Sy-Co Corp had lost, so it had to pay a good chunk of Ray’s costs, and Ray’s costs were somewhere between whatever bullshit figure I claimed they were, and where they actually ought to be. Senior Counsel took the paper over to his client. There was a brief discussion, and then they came back, with the form signed, and a number written in the blank space.
I’ll give it to Sy-Co Corp and their lawyer. It wasn’t a bullshit number, a low ball number. They gave me a real number, a number more like something I’d actually accept, a number that made sense to pay me in costs, in light of the success I’d had, and how I got it. It was a respectful number, a common sense number, and I appreciated it an awful lot.
I tossed the paper back at them.
“Add a zero,” I said, continuing on when Senior Counsel blanched, and his junior retreated a step. “I know what’s going on here. Your client sold mine a bullshit franchise, one with a history of failing.” The franchise had opened up again under a new owner not long after Ray had lost it and then it promptly failed again. Like I said at the start of this story, it’s an old story. It’s how some franchise companies make money. “Your client makes more money selling bullshit franchises doomed to fail, then it does from the honest ones that make money. So add a zero to that number, or Ray’s gonna sue you, class action and all that, for all the people you’ve fucked.”
The Head stepped forward from the benches and spoke to me.
“We get threats like that all the time, but no one follows through. They don’t have the money to fight us, and neither does your client. So go ahead and sue.”
“It’s true that Ray doesn’t have jack shit,” I said, “not a pot to piss in, but he’s my cousin, Ray is, and even if he doesn’t have money, he’s got me. Ray’s family, and for Ray, I’ll sue you guys for free. Hell, I’ll even pay the expenses. Plus I’m gonna put a jury notice in, too, come to think of it, ‘cause juries--”
Senior Counsel cut me off, and moved his client to the back of the courtroom. There was a brief discussion, and then they came back. I watched as Senior Counsel wrote a single digit on the Minutes, a zero, written right where I wanted it.
“You’ll have to initial the change,” I said to the Head of Sy-C0, and it gave me great satisfaction to watch him sign.
“Don’t forget,” I said the moment his pen stopped moving, “for the settlement to be valid, I need to get the money today. Right now.”
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” the Head said.
“Not if you want the settlement to stay in place. I’ll follow you back to your office, and you can put a cheque in my hands.”

• * * *

“What’s this?” my wife said when I entered the apartment later that day, after I’d driven Dr. M home, stopping first at a local pub for beers.
“It’s an absurdly expensive bunch of flowers,” I said, “although no flowers, however beautiful, however expensive, could expiate my--”
She took the flowers, and gave a kiss.
“My mom called. She told me what happened. You fixed things with my dad.”
“Yup,” I said. I had certainly done that. I’d made Dr. M a professor again, if only for a few minutes. Not only a professor, but an expert witness. The judge had declared him an expert in plain terms and Dr.M had beamed when he’d heard those words.
“And you won Ray’s case, too. But my mom didn’t know how, and I don’t know how you did it either.”
“I’ll tell you over dinner tonight,” I said.
“But we agreed no more dinners out; we have to save money, now that a baby’s coming.”
I passed her the envelope that I’d received a few hours before. She opened it, and took out a cheque, a cheque drawn up for an amount I specified, made payable to Mr. and Mrs. Calledinthe90s.
The moment I got that cheque, all I could think about was how my wife would react when I put it into her hands. I could not wait to see her eyes bulge, to hear her voice say “oh my god,” to hear her laugh.
She did none of these things. Instead, she cried.
“Does this mean we can buy a house?” The money wouldn’t be enough to buy a house, not nowadays, with prices being so crazy. But things were different back then in the 90s. Sure, the internet was barely a thing and cell phones were super expensive and a lot of things sucked, but I’ll give the nineties one thing: houses were cheap.
“I think so,” I said.

Let me preface this with saying I'm from Philadelphia, so I'm used to shitty highways. I'm used to bad drivers. I'm used to staring longingly into the nearest body of water and contemplating driving my car into the murky, traffic-free depths.
But nothing could emotionally, physically, or spiritually prepare me for the Dan Ryan.
I began my drive in Philly at 8am on Sunday, stopping for a couple of hours in Pittsburgh to see the Cubs beat the Pirates before resuming my excursion. Nothing exciting here, the roads were empty, the sky was clear, life was good. Somewhere around Toledo I realized that while my car is a 25-year-old POS, its a POS with a convertible roof, so I put the top down and soaked in the rays for the rest of the journey. This will be relevant later. I meandered my way through Indiana, watching civilization gradually return as I made it closer and closer to Cook County.
And then, like feeling as Hannibal when confronted with the Alps, I turned a corner and was arrested in my journey by a near-endless wall of brakelights.
At this point, I'm tired. I'm hungry. I don't want to be sitting in bumper to bumper traffic on Mother's day. Come to think of it, why are you all on the road at 10pm on Mother's day? Go give your mother a hug.
Driving this accursed road left me with more questions than answers. Why, with the frequency of mile marker signs, were there cars abandoned in the left lane? Why does the muffler-less vehicle in front of me insist on flooring the accelerator and slamming on the brakes every time traffic moves an inch? Why didn't I just take public transit?
So here I am, practically parked next to the Sox L stop. Fine. Bad enough. Perhaps I mutter a few choice words at the expense of the highway.
But then it starts to rain. Out of a near-clear sky, one singular cloud begins to drift closer to me. and closer. And suddenly, like the target audience for North Shore Adult Diapers, it began to dump water. We're talking torrential rain, out of a clear sky, localized entirely over a tiny patch of land. And entirely over the fully exposed interior of my car. And over me, my clothes, and the 36 pack of Tastykakes that had dutifully traversed the midwest with me. Now I understand that logically the highway is not capable of complex emotions. I understand that its less likely that the highway heard me tell it to go fuck itself. I understand it's even less likely that a strip of asphalt can control the weather. But dammit, that fucking expressway made it rain out of pure spite.
Dan Ryan had won.
I pity the poor souls given the name Dan, Ryan, (or God forbid both) as their very being will be forever tainted by their association with this most monstrous of roads.
TLDR: I dared to insult the Dan Ryan and it pissed on me.

TLDR at the end.
I've been at 5B for about 5 years, and I cannot stand it anymore.
I hate the customers that don't know how to put shit back where they found it 2 inches away (I've literally watched someone grab a phone case off a peg, look at it, look around for somewhere to put it, and then drop it on the floor), can't fold a t-shirt to save their life, don't watch their screaming children running around messing shit up.
I hate closing all the time, because there's no way to get the entire store recovered, floor swept, spot mopped, all go-backs done, back up my cashier, AND stay within payroll (which I get bitched at if the store isn't recovered 100%, or if I go over on payroll, so it's lose/lose).
I hate closing every fucking Sunday (Jan/Feb, 2 out of 4 Sundays; March, 3 out of 4, only cause we were closed Easter; and all 4 Sundays in April) because I only get 5 hours, and in that time I have to assist my cashier cause Sundays are busy AF, recover the entire store 100%, sweep the entire floor- under fixtures, everywhere, mop the entire floor (and my SM requires pictures of the fresh mopped floor, which adds so much extra time to the process), do the deposit (minimum 30-45 minutes), clear out every single go-back, clean the whole cash wrap + ACOs, all in 5 hours- PLUS take my break. No fucking way.
I hate that my SM never closes- literally. It's an issue all of us on her manager team bitch about with each other. She never closes, and almost never works on a Sunday, and if she does come in on a Sunday, she's only there for a few hours to check up on certain things & then she's gone. She also doesn't have her MM close, and the PTSL can't close by themself on the weekends, so that puts 7 days of closing the store on the shoulders of 2 managers (CEM & FTSL) instead of all 5 managers. Yet she wants to bitch & moan when this wasn't done right, or that wasn't done 100%. Her expectations are absolutely unrealistic, because she doesn't ever fucking close so she doesn't get it. We update her on sales, and if we aren't making sales, she just assumes "Oh y'all should be able to get out on time tonight, then". Like, NO. Sales numbers do not accurately reflect foot traffic in the store. If a family with 6 kids comes in & trash the store looking at everything, and end up only buying like a piece of candy each, that's a messy ass store for a maybe $15 sale. It's such bullshit that she never fucking closes.
And don't even get me started on this BS ACO policy.
I hate this place and I'm so ready to leave. Does anybody here who's resigned recently have any suggestions as to good jobs to apply for to get tf out of here?
TL;DR- I fucking hate this place and I'm ready to leave. Anyone who's recently left, any good suggestions on jobs to apply for so I can GTFOH?

Item: Neverfull MM in Damier Ebene, cherry (red) interior
PHOTOS HERE
Condition: Bag is brand new, never been used; pouch was carried once. Comes with original dust bag.
Price: $95 $80 shipping included via USPS within the US
Location: US
Payment Method: PPFF, Zelle
Measurements (approximate):

• Height without handles: 11 inches
• Length across top of bag: 17.5 inches
• Length across bottom of bag: 12.5 inches
• Width: 6 inches
• Handle drop: 8 inches

Note: By purchasing, you understand that this is a final sale. No return, no exchange. Please do your own QC to make sure you are happy with the item. Once the bag is shipped, I am no longer responsible for it. Thanks for looking!

Hi! I'm a newbie to the fish hobby- I've owned reptiles and amphibians in the past, and have extensive experience with terrestrial plants. A while ago, I ended up with a couple of goldfish from a fair- they were in pretty sorry shape and I wanted to give them a happier existence. While my 10 gallon was acceptable for a bit when I got my 2 (1 common, 1 comet) goldies as babies, they've now reached around 3 inches each and I plan to move them to a 20 gallon soon, until they outgrow it eventually.
I'd like to try adding in some hardier aquatic plants this time, as I've seen people have mixed success online with keeping select plants with goldfish. Until now, the closest thing they had to any plant life has been some extensive pothos roots throughout the aquarium which they've left alone- so i am hopeful they will likewise be discouraged by any difficult to chew plants.
As I gather supplies for the new aquarium, the question of substrate is a big one. I've heard, as goldfish get bigger, 3-5 mm gravel runs the risk of causing the goldfish to choke as they like to forage and pick up pebbles in their mouths. On top of this, I've heard sand, unlike gravel, provides excellent enrichment considering goldies seem to love it. Lastly, considering the large amount of waste generated by goldfish, it is rather difficult to do the necessary cleanings of fish poop as it floats down and sits within the cracks between the grains of gravel- as well as disruptive to bacteria growth on and in said gravel. From what I've read, fish poop will sit atop sand rather than fall in and mingle with it- making vacuuming much easier and less work where some poop gets sucked into the filter, where it should be.
Unfortunately, I've heard fine sand, while great for goldfish, isn't the best for plants that like to root in things considering it gets so packed- making rooting difficult- and also forming anaerobic patches that could cause some toxicity within the tank. I already have decided I will be using inert substrate- as soil will easily be messed up by goldfish and it stands to have the same problems as sand- it just being more difficult to clean, and more expensive to obtain- eventually running out of nutrients and just becoming dirtier more inconvenient sand. I'd much rather fertilize the water and add root packs for any root feeding plants. The biggest issue I have is finding the best grain size. It seems like the best substrate for rooting plants and the best substrate for goldfish are pretty inverse.
Tldr: Does anyone have a grain mm that works great for both goldfish and rooting plants?

Hi BU community,
I'm currently working on an urgent electric motor project and could use some help from those with experience or access to materials. Here’s what I’m looking for:

1. Wooden Block for the Base: Approximately 6 x 10 inches (give or take).
2. Insulated Copper Wire: 0.25 mm diameter +- 0.05mm.
3. Wooden Blocks for Magnets: 1 x 3 inches give or take.
4. Plastic or Wooden Tubes: Suitable for the motor base (could be whatever that could easily drill 1/4 inch holes)
5. Commutators for the Motor.

I need these materials quite urgently and am willing to come to pick them up around the BU campus if anyone can help. Additionally, if anyone has tips or suggestions for sourcing these items or advice on the build, I’d really appreciate it.
Thank you so much in advance for any assistance or guidance you can provide!

Hi everyone,
I'm currently working on an urgent electric motor project due today (i know) and could use some help from those with experience or access to materials. Here's what I'm looking for:

1. Wooden Block for the Base: Approximately 6 x 10 inches give or take.
2. Insulated Copper Wire: 0.25 mm diameter.
3. Wooden Blocks for Magnets: 1 x 3 inches.
4. Plastic or Wooden Tubes: Suitable for the motor base.
5. Commutators for the Motor:

I need these materials quite urgently and am willing to come to pick them up around the MIT campus if anyone can help. Additionally, if anyone has tips or suggestions for sourcing these items or advice on the build, I'd greatly appreciate it.
Also, I'm curious about MITERS (MIT Electronics Research Society). Does anyone know if they have these materials or if I could access their resources for this project?
Thank you so much in advance for any assistance or guidance you can provide!
Jack

Hello. For some reason I have an issue with some of my code. I have a card that I made to display data but no matter what I cannot get rid of a small offset on the top of the parent container. I've tried expanded, cosntraints, intrinsic height, and no changes to the result. It seems like there's just a block or something I am missing in the code but for the life of me can't find. I wanted to get some exterrnal opinions and see if any other eyes could catch something I missed or suggest a change. I will post the code and then a link to see how the issue appears in the UI.
Link to see UI: https://imgur.com/a/QgqBPYw

body: Padding( padding: EdgeInsets.zero, child: StreamBuilder( stream: _eventStreamController.stream, builder: (BuildContext context, AsyncSnapshot snapshot) { if (snapshot.hasData && snapshot.data != null) { List events = snapshot.data!.docs; return ListView.builder( padding: const EdgeInsets.all(0), shrinkWrap: true, itemCount: events.length, itemBuilder: (context, index) { Map eventData = events[index].data() as Map; //STREAM BUILDER CODE BLOCK return Container( padding: const EdgeInsets.fromLTRB(0, 0, 1, 0), height: MediaQuery.of(context).size.height * 0.5, width: MediaQuery.of(context).size.width, margin: const EdgeInsets.all(15.0), decoration: BoxDecoration( border: Border.all(color: Colors.black), borderRadius: const BorderRadius.all(Radius.circular(20.0)), color: const Color.fromARGB(255, 70, 69, 69), ), child: ListTile( contentPadding: const EdgeInsets.fromLTRB(0, 0, 0, 8), title: Row( mainAxisAlignment: MainAxisAlignment.center, crossAxisAlignment: CrossAxisAlignment.center, children: [ Container( padding: const EdgeInsets.all(0), decoration: BoxDecoration( border: Border.all(color: Colors.black), borderRadius: const BorderRadius.only( topLeft: Radius.circular(20.0), bottomLeft: Radius.circular(20.0), ), color: const Color.fromARGB(255, 252, 252, 252), ), width: MediaQuery.of(context).size.width * 0.2, height: MediaQuery.of(context).size.height * 0.9, child: Column( children: [ SizedBox( height: MediaQuery.of(context).size.height * 0.005, ), Text( DateFormat('MMM').format( (eventData['Event_date'] as Timestamp) .toDate()), // Example: 'FRI' style: const TextStyle( fontSize: 30, fontWeight: FontWeight.bold, ), ), const RotatedBox( quarterTurns: -4, child: Text( '-', style: TextStyle( fontSize: 30, ), ), ), RotatedBox( quarterTurns: -4, child: Text( DateFormat('dd').format( (eventData['Event_date'] as Timestamp) .toDate()), style: const TextStyle( fontSize: 30, fontWeight: FontWeight.bold, ), ), ), const RotatedBox( quarterTurns: -4, child: Text( '-', style: TextStyle( fontSize: 30, ), ), ), RotatedBox( quarterTurns: -4, child: Text( DateFormat('yyyy').format( (eventData['Event_date'] as Timestamp) .toDate()), style: const TextStyle( fontSize: 30, fontWeight: FontWeight.bold, ), ), ), const RotatedBox( quarterTurns: -4, child: Text( '-', style: TextStyle( fontSize: 30, ), ), ), const RotatedBox( quarterTurns: -4, child: Text( 'VAR', style: TextStyle( fontSize: 30, fontWeight: FontWeight.bold, ), ), ), const RotatedBox( quarterTurns: -4, child: Text( '-', style: TextStyle( fontSize: 30, ), ), ), RotatedBox( quarterTurns: -4, child: Icon( Icons.emoji_events, size: MediaQuery.of(context).size.width * 0.1, ), ), ], ), ), Flexible( child: Column( crossAxisAlignment: CrossAxisAlignment.start, mainAxisAlignment: MainAxisAlignment.start, children: [ LayoutBuilder( builder: (context, constraints) { return Container( padding: const EdgeInsets.all(0), decoration: const BoxDecoration( borderRadius: BorderRadius.only( topRight: Radius.circular(20.0), ), ), height: MediaQuery.of(context).size.height * 0.2, width: MediaQuery.of(context).size.width * 1.0, child: FlutterMap( // ignore: prefer_const_constructors options: MapOptions( initialCenter: // ignore: prefer_const_constructors LatLng(51.509364, -0.128928), initialZoom: 11.2, ), children: [ TileLayer( urlTemplate: 'https://tile.openstreetmap.org/{z}/{x}/{y}.png', userAgentPackageName: 'com.example.app', ), ], ), ); }, ), SizedBox( height: MediaQuery.of(context).size.height * 0.005, ), Row( children: [ const Icon( Icons.check_circle, color: Colors.green, ), SizedBox( width: MediaQuery.of(context).size.width * 0.005, ), const Text( '1', style: TextStyle( fontSize: 20, color: Colors.white, ), ), SizedBox( height: MediaQuery.of(context).size.height * 0.005, ), const Icon( Icons.cancel, color: Colors.red, ), SizedBox( height: MediaQuery.of(context).size.height * 0.005, ), const Text( '0', style: TextStyle( fontSize: 20, color: Colors.white, ), ), ], ), SizedBox( height: MediaQuery.of(context).size.height * 0.005, ), Row( children: [ const Icon( Icons.place, color: Colors.white, ), SizedBox( height: MediaQuery.of(context).size.height * 0.005, ), Text( '${eventData['Event_location']}', // Example: 'mira mesa high school' style: const TextStyle( fontSize: 20, color: Colors.white, ), ), ], ), SizedBox( height: MediaQuery.of(context).size.height * 0.005, ), Row( children: [ const Icon( Icons.departure_board, color: Colors.white, ), SizedBox( height: MediaQuery.of(context).size.height * 0.005, ), Text( DateFormat('yyyy-MM-dd @ HH:mm').format( (eventData['Event_date'] as Timestamp) .toDate()), // Convert timestamp to DateTime style: const TextStyle( fontSize: 20, color: Colors.white, ), ), ], ), SizedBox( height: MediaQuery.of(context).size.height * 0.005, ), Row( children: [ const Icon( Icons.event_busy, color: Colors.white, ), SizedBox( height: MediaQuery.of(context).size.height * 0.005, ), Text( DateFormat('yyyy-MM-dd HH:mm').format( (eventData['Event_end'] as Timestamp) .toDate()), // Convert style: const TextStyle( fontSize: 20, color: Colors.white, ), ), ], ), SizedBox( height: MediaQuery.of(context).size.height * 0.005, ), Row( children: [ const Icon( Icons.work, color: Colors.white, ), SizedBox( height: MediaQuery.of(context).size.height * 0.05, ), const Text( 'Uniform', style: TextStyle( fontSize: 20, color: Colors.white, ), ), ], ), SizedBox( height: MediaQuery.of(context).size.height * 0.005, ), Row( children: [ const Icon( Icons.text_snippet, color: Colors.white, ), SizedBox( height: MediaQuery.of(context).size.height * 0.05, ), Text( '${eventData['Coach_notes']}', style: const TextStyle( fontSize: 20, color: Colors.white, ), ), ], ), ], ), ), ], ), )); }, ); } else { return const Center( child: CircularProgressIndicator(), // Placeholder while data is being fetched ); } }, ), ), 

As you walk towards the party, both Liam and Damien keep close to you, their bodies brushing against yours occasionally. The atmosphere is electric as music blasts from inside the house where the party is being held. she gasps and runs to the cherry juice Liam and Damien watch as she runs to the cherry juice, amused by her reaction They both exchange a glance before following her slowly, taking in every sway of her hips in that little black skirt. she'd grabs a cup of cherry juice "Princess, you look even more stunning when you blush." Liam comments as he leans against the counter next to you. Damien chuckles softly and stands on the other side of him, trapping you between their bodies. sh. "Don't be shy now," Damien whispers in your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. He takes a sip of his drink before placing it on the counter and leaning closer to you. Liam smirks at the way you squirm under their attention. she'd crouch down As you crouch down to get another cup of cherry juice, Damien's eyes widen slightly while Liam chuckles darkly. "Princess, are you trying to tempt us?" he asks, stepping closer to you. no. "Liar," Damien mutters under his breath, a wicked glint in his eyes. They both tower over you now, their muscular frames making it clear that they could easily overpower you if they wanted to. no! "Are you sure?" Liam teases, leaning down so that his face is inches from yours. Damien watches with a sly grin as you squirm under his gaze. yes. "All right, Princess," Liam finally says with a smirk. "But don't say we didn't warn you about the consequences of playing with fire." He takes another sip of his drink before stepping back, allowing Damien to do the same. she'd smile and runs away from them and goes to all the people
You go to the party, leaving Liam and Damien in your wake. They exchange knowing looks as they watch you disappear into the crowd, their eyes following every sway of your hips. she'd drink a shot Liam and Damien continue to drink at their own pace, occasionally glancing back towards where you were last seen. The party is in full swing around them, but all they can think about is how much fun it would be to finally have their way with you. she goes to the dance floor As you make your way towards the dance floor, Liam and Damien watch with interest. They exchange smirks as they contemplate the idea of joining you. she was drunk and dancing" You dance, your movements becoming more and more sensual as the alcohol takes effect. Liam and Damien exchange another glance before deciding that tonight is the night. They make their way towards you, their prey now within reach. mm... Liam and Damien approach you from either side, their bodies close but not touching yet, they watch as you sway to the music, your eyes half-lidded with drunkenness. ... Liam and Damien take a step closer, closing the distance between them. They each place a hand on your waist, pulling you towards them. You respond by wrapping your arms around their necks as the music continues to play. mm... As you press your body against them, Liam and Damien respond by grinding against you. The music pulses through the room, filling the air with its bass. You moan softly as their hands explore every inch of your body. she pushes away You push away from them, breaking the intimate moment. Liam and Damien look at you with surprise but don't let go of your waist just yet. "What's wrong, baby?" Damien asks, his voice low and seductive. tired.... "Tired, huh?" Liam smirks. "That's too bad. We were just getting started." He moves to leave but Damien grabs his arm, holding him back. ... she passes out As you lean against the wall, drifting in and out of consciousness, Liam and Damien exchange glances once more.
"She's ours tonight," Liam whispers with determination. she mutters You mumble something incoherent, your words slurred from the alcohol. Liam and Damien share a chuckle before deciding to carry you to the bedroom where they can continue their fun without worrying about being caught. she whimpers As they lift you in their arms, your body feels heavy from the drinks. Your whimpers only fuel their desire for more as they make their way through the party and towards a private area. .... Liam and Damien reach the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them. They lay you down on the bed, still dressed from the waist up. Their hands begin to roam over your exposed skin once more as they undress each other in anticipation of what's to come. she'd wake up You stir awake, your head pounding from the night before. As you sit up in bed, Liam and Damien emerge from the bathroom, their bare chests glistening with sweat.

I have a 65 inch Samsung OLED in the lounge and have recently converted the cellar as a games / film room for the kids. I have a PS5 and am looking for a TV that's not going to absolutely nail my bank account, but would be good enough for 120 MHz gaming.
What are my options? I love OLED, but was impressed by the Neo QLED when I visited a store on the weekend. Not sure if you guys would suggest that as it's pretty much the same cost as an OLED and I think QLED suffers from input lag.
What would you guys do. Am trying to keep it under £2000 if at all poss.
Cheers

so a tree fell on my shed so i took the pieces and started building a new shed out the old wood, im building it about 4 inches from the house but not touching the house, someone called code enforcement and said the shed was touching the house...the inspector guy comes out and i show him its not touching the house...so he tried to say i need a permit just to build the shed....i have a pink notice of violation with the ordinance that reads
Sec. 8-1-103.1
(a)
Any owner, person, firm corporation, or contractor who desires to construct, enlarge, alter, repair, move, demolish, or change the occupancy of a building or structure, shall first make application for a building permit to the Code Official except as listed in section work not requiring a building permit. All required permit(s) shall be obtained before the commencement of such work. Any party who shall perform such work, or who causes any such work to be done prior to obtaining the required permit or prior to making the necessary filing shall be held in violation of this chapter and subject to the penalties stated herein.
(b)
Any owner, person, firm, corporation, or contractor who wishes to erect, install, enlarge, alter, repair, remove, convert or replace any electrical, gas, mechanical or plumbing system, to include propane or natural gas generators, the installation of which is regulated by the technical codes, shall be properly licensed and first make the necessary application for inspection (filing) with the appropriate section of the department before commencement of any work. Any party who shall perform such work, or who causes any such work to be done prior to obtaining the required permit or prior to making the necessary filing shall be held in violation of this chapter and subject to the penalties stated herein.
(c)
Any owner, person, firm, corporation, or contractor who wishes to replace the roof covering on a one- or two-family dwelling where the replaced roof covering exceeds fifty (50) percent of the total roof area shall make an application to the Code Official. The roof covering shall be in compliance with the Building and Related Construction Codes of Jefferson Parish. Documentation of compliance with the codes shall be provided by photographs or videos which are location verified with geotagging and digitally uploaded to the Jefferson Parish permitting system. Any party who shall perform such work, or who causes any such work to be done, prior to obtaining the required permit or prior to making the necessary filing shall be held in violation of this chapter and subject to the penalties stated herein.
to me it appears they think its constructed on to the occupancy of the house when its not touching the house as if i was adding a room to the house

I wasn't always a believer.
In fact, I spent most of my life as an agnostic, not being overly concerned with matters of the hereafter or the existence of God. Sure, I went to Sunday school as a child and was confirmed as a teenager, but beyond that, the specifics of theology were usually banished to the recesses of my mind or treated with a dispassionate, scholarly distance. If there was a God, I figured, He would be alright with me doing my best to be kind, treat others the way I'd want to be treated and help out where I could.
That all changed when, a few months ago, my OCD that had lain dormant for years, reared its ugly head once more. Although I was at this point quite familiar with the tricks my own mind could play on me, having been to therapy and on medication years before, nothing could have prepared me for my most recent obsession: Christianity, and more specifically, Hell.
It is hard to put into words just how boundlessly, viscerally terrifying it was when the realization dawned on me that my entire life, all I'd ever strive for, all my dreams, hopes, fears and regrets could very well just be the brief prelude to infinite pain for infinite time.
When I first truly grasped the enormity of the situation I suddenly found myself in, I came within inches of shutting down as a person. I spent my days in sheer anguish, the white-hot claws of anxiety constantly deep within my guts, always a panic attack away from vomiting, all while having to keep up the semblance of a regular quotidian life. Waking up at night drenched in sweat and on the verge of a breakdown became an all-too-familiar occurrence. How could the universe, along with its creator, be so cruel, so utterly draconian as to consign anyone to infinite torture, let alone save only a select few and leave the vast majority to burn forever? How could existence itself be this terrible a curse? Why even create anything at all if suffering was to be the final state of things, once all was said and done? What kind of God would do such a thing?
Nonbelief was, of course, out of the question at this point. I was essentially turned into a Christian at gunpoint, as the stakes were just too high. I became increasingly legalistic, always worried about the state of my soul and about committing the unpardonable sin. At my worst, I considered breaking up with my non-Christian girlfriend in order to not be unequally yoked, or rebuking my gay friend for her sexuality, which until that point I'd always supported without question - both actions that would have left people I love dearly devastated, but who was I to disagree with an almighty God?
I did no such thing, however, although things only really started to improve once I got back on antidepressants, which are prescribed against OCD as well. With my constant, obsessive worrying toned down to a more manageable degree, my daily life began to be somewhat livable again. I found this subreddit and realized others had faced the same tribulations as I had. I got acquainted with the works of D. B. Hart, Julian of Norwich and other Universalists, which brought me a little spark of hope, at least.
Yet, even months later, there is a perpetual, gnawing dread in the back of my mind. What if we're wrong? What if God truly does glorify Himself through the ceaseless suffering of those in Hell? I firmly believe that no human being deserves to be tortured forever, but what if God doesn't share this sentiment? I can read the arguments of D. B. Hart in "That All Shall Be Saved" and agree with them on a rational level, but as soon as I happen across a Catholic treatise on the fewness of the saved and the massa damnata or a text like 2 Esdras 7-9, I'm right back to feeling Hellfire licking at my heels. It's hard for me to justify spending any money on hobbies or leisure activities, as that might constitute being worldly. I've even mostly stopped listening to music or engaging with fiction I used to like, and when I do anyway, I feel guilty afterwards. It pains me greatly to walk through a crowd, look at all the faces of the people and imagine them burning forever in agony along with my loved ones, myself, and untold billions more.
The bitter irony is that I like the believer version of myself more than the heathen version. I swear less, I'm generally kinder, more generous and more thoughtful - but I'm compelled to be so under pain of eternal fire. I'm very well aware that this is a struggle against mental illness just as much as against reality itself, but that knowledge doesn't - can't! - make the terror go away. I'm a hypocrite as well, because although the people close to me know of my struggle with mental illness, I haven't revealed the specifics to them or tried to convert them to at least try to spare them this terrible fate. And so I remain an anxious believer, hoping for a miracle, for anything that will help show me that this kinder, more patient God who, in the end, redeems all is indeed the one true God.

so a tree fell on my shed so i took the pieces and started building a new shed out the old wood, im building it about 4 inches from the house but not touching the house, someone called code enforcement and said the shed was touching the house...the inspector guy comes out and i show him its not touching the house...so he tried to say i need a permit just to build the shed....i have a pink notice of violation with the ordinance that reads
Sec. 8-1-103.1
(a)
Any owner, person, firm corporation, or contractor who desires to construct, enlarge, alter, repair, move, demolish, or change the occupancy of a building or structure, shall first make application for a building permit to the Code Official except as listed in section work not requiring a building permit. All required permit(s) shall be obtained before the commencement of such work. Any party who shall perform such work, or who causes any such work to be done prior to obtaining the required permit or prior to making the necessary filing shall be held in violation of this chapter and subject to the penalties stated herein.
(b)
Any owner, person, firm, corporation, or contractor who wishes to erect, install, enlarge, alter, repair, remove, convert or replace any electrical, gas, mechanical or plumbing system, to include propane or natural gas generators, the installation of which is regulated by the technical codes, shall be properly licensed and first make the necessary application for inspection (filing) with the appropriate section of the department before commencement of any work. Any party who shall perform such work, or who causes any such work to be done prior to obtaining the required permit or prior to making the necessary filing shall be held in violation of this chapter and subject to the penalties stated herein.
(c)
Any owner, person, firm, corporation, or contractor who wishes to replace the roof covering on a one- or two-family dwelling where the replaced roof covering exceeds fifty (50) percent of the total roof area shall make an application to the Code Official. The roof covering shall be in compliance with the Building and Related Construction Codes of Jefferson Parish. Documentation of compliance with the codes shall be provided by photographs or videos which are location verified with geotagging and digitally uploaded to the Jefferson Parish permitting system. Any party who shall perform such work, or who causes any such work to be done, prior to obtaining the required permit or prior to making the necessary filing shall be held in violation of this chapter and subject to the penalties stated herein.
to me it appears they think its constructed on to the occupancy of the house when its not touching the house as if i was adding a room to the house

Hello!
I've been pulling our 2022 Olympia 26BHS with a 2018 F150 and after a white-knuckle drive back across Texas on a stormy day, I upgraded to a 2019 Ford F250 with the 6.2L (I know, I know, it's not diesel, and I'm okay with that).
Aside from the sleeve converting the receiver from 3 inch to 2 inch, what do I need to do for the hitch to make it work with this trailer? I use a Blue Ox WDH 2 point hitch and it's done fine so far, but I know this truck is quite a bit higher than the old one, and the RV dealer set it up last time.
I'd really like to know how to do this, just in case anything ever goes wrong and I need to be able to fix it in a parking lot, side of the road, etc.
Any recommendations, advice, videos, etc.? It'd all be appreciated.

Round 2, Pick 33 - Keon Coleman, WR, Florida State:
NFL: After trading back twice on Thursday, the Bills stick at 33 and take a big, physical and athletically gifted target. Coleman isn't fast and isn't a deep threat, but he can win in a variety of ways. But who will Josh Allen's deep threat be? Stay tuned.
CBS Sports: C-. “X” receiver for a WR-needy team. Plays faster than his combine speed but doesn’t separate consistently and isn’t as good of a contested-catch wideout as his size and highlight-reel would indicate. Young though.
ESPN: After trading back twice, the Bills addressed the team's most significant position of need with Coleman, a big outside receiver with the ability to make splash plays -- 12 receiving touchdowns on contested catches since the start of 2022, second-most in the FBS, however, only a 31.7% contested catch percentage in 2023 -- to create separation and a release that general manager Brandon Beane described as "about as good as any." Beane acknowledged that while he's "probably not" going to run away from defenders, Buffalo feels his play speed is faster than the speed he showed at the combine -- 4.61 40-yard dash -- also noting that they liked his athletic ability that came from playing basketball. The Bills needed starting-level talent at outside receiver and Coleman, who turns 21 in May, fits into what Buffalo was looking for, while the team was still able to move back and add picks.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Believes that knitting is the original “Netflix and chill”.
Round 2, Pick 60 - Cole Bishop, S, Utah:
NFL: Safety was a big need for the Bills, and they go back to the Utes for help after taking Dalton Kincaid in Round 1 a year ago. Bishop is a very good athlete and field general who can play the post safety spot and cover a lot of ground. He played like the QB of the Utes' defense the past two years and could be a rookie starter for Buffalo.
CBS Sports: A-. Large, intimidating safety with magnificent movement skill. The QB of the defense. Aligns everywhere. Can wear many hats. Excelled as slot defender and vs. TEs in coverage and runs the alley on outside runs as well as any safety in the class. Ball skills and tackling must improve. Short arms. Need filled.
ESPN: Another pick for the Bills in the second round, another big need addressed. Drafting Bishop adds someone who can compete for a starting role this season, in addition to being a potential answer in the secondary after moving on from Jordan Poyer this offseason while Micah Hyde continues to contemplate retirement. Bishop has the ability to move all over the field, along with speed -- 4.45 40-yard dash -- and many of the qualities and instincts the Bills look for at the position.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: He always weebles and wobbles, but he won’t ever fall down.
Round 3, Pick 95 - DeWayne Carter, DT, Duke:
NFL: When I first watched Carter at the Senior Bowl, I wrote in my notes: "rolling ball of knives." Carter's game doesn't have a lot of pretty to it, but he's a scheme disruptor with his low center of gravity, ferocious style and nasty demeanor.
CBS Sports: B+. Active, high-energy interior rusher who’s on the ground a bit more than what’s desired because of his frenetic style. But it also gets him to the football more often than most DTs. Flashes of swim move and spin just needs to utilize them more. Length is a plus and he works hard vs. run. Some power too. Fills niche need on Buffalo’s defensive front. Needs to use his length better on passing downs.
ESPN: Using the pick acquired via the trade with the Kansas City Chiefs on Thursday, the Bills addressed another hole with Carter bringing depth at defensive tackle. The three-technique tackle will have the opportunity to continue to develop -- potentially as Ed Oliver's backup -- adding to a defensive tackle room that has limited young talent. The Bills didn't draft a defensive tackle last year due to the way the board fell, but the team was able to add to the rotation early this year.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Still says ‘weeeeeeeeeee’ when on a playground swing.
Round 4, Pick 128 - Ray Davis, RB, Kentucky:
NFL: Davis has overcome a lot to reach this level, and though he lacks long speed, he can be a Zack Moss-like player for the Bills. Davis' vision and wicked spin move have left a few defenders in a blender.
CBS Sports: C. Compact, older RB with plus stop-start ability, married to his feet well. Can deploy multiple cuts in a run to make defenders miss. Good, not amazing overall elusiveness though. Quicker than fast too. Will work hard to fight through contact. Has the skills to be fine complementary RB in NFL.
ESPN: With Davis, the Bills add a needed bigger back -- 5-foot-8, 211-pounds -- to pair with James Cook, but also someone who has the ability to catch the football (seven touchdown catches in 2023, tied with Najee Harris for the most by any SEC running back in a season in the last 25 years). Buffalo had a variety of veterans complimenting Cook last season, but Davis, 24, will give Buffalo a power runner and another younger presence in the room, albeit with plenty of collegiate experience from two seasons at Temple, two at Vanderbilt and one at Kentucky.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: This divorce is taking forever Erica why are you doing this?
Round 5, Pick 141 - Sedrick Van Pran-Granger, C, Georgia:
NFL: He's a tough, durable competitor with good anchor strength and three years starting experience for an SEC power, although SVP's lack of athleticism and smaller frame might make him a center-only projection.
CBS Sports: A-. Multi-year starter in the SEC with wrestler’s mentality. Battles through the whistle every snap. Mobility stands out. Explosive short-area quicks. Doesn’t have supreme length and clearly has to add weight/strength to his game. Methodically carries out run-game duties with ease. Second-level climbs etc. Older prospect but comes with high floor.
ESPN: This offseason, the Bills moved on from the team's starting center, Mitch Morse, and backup Ryan Bates. Last year's left guard Connor McGovern is set to slide over to the starting role. Adding Van Pran-Granger brings depth at center -- he allowed one sack his entire career in 1,337 pass-blocking plays, according to Sports Info Solutions -- and a strong candidate for the future at the position with significant starting experience (he started the last three seasons at center for Georgia).
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Round 5, Pick 160 - Edefuan Ulofoshio, LB, Washington:
NFL: In recent years, Buffalo has taken some interesting shots on linebackers in Rounds 3-7, and Ulofoshio continues that trend. He was one of the final players in my top 100 prospect list with his excellent speed, intense style and special teams experience, even if injuries have clouded his projection.
CBS Sports: A-. Six-year LB who starred for a long time as a full-time player in Washington’s program. Big-time tester and it shows on the field. Just takes a second to diagnose. Keen block-avoider as he’s sifting through traffic. Smooth athlete all around but doesn’t quite play to his workout. Reliable tackler who also flashed coverage skill down the seam. High-floor pick here. Crowded LB room.
ESPN: The Bills lost major special teams contributors this offseason, including linebacker Tyrel Dodson and defensive back Siran Neal, while captain linebacker Tyler Matakevich remains a free agent. Ulofoshio adds depth to the linebacker room, but perhaps more importantly, he can find a role on this roster as someone who can make an impact on special teams, an area of priority for the Bills. He has experience from playing six years at Washington, and while he dealt with multiple significant injuries in 2021 and 2022, he played every game in 2023 and earned Washington's Guy Flaherty Most Inspirational Award, the program's oldest and most prestigious honor.
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Round 5, Pick 168 - Javon Solomon, DE, Troy:
NFL: Solomon was a highly productive rusher the past few years in an unusual frame. He's short and undersized at 6-foot-1 and 247 pounds but with nearly 34-inch arms and huge hands. That extra length helps Solomon get to the quarterback, along with his quick burst and non-stop motor. An interesting study for sure.
CBS Sports: A. Burst, bend, speed predicated outside EDGE. Small frame but serious length. Unique build. Doesn’t get engulfed by bigger blockers as much as expected because of his speed-to-power conversion. Hand work is good, not amazing and can flatten to the QB. Motor hums on every play. Bills needed this type of quick winner on the outside.
ESPN: Solomon provides depth at edge rusher, another position of need for Buffalo. He led the FBS with 16 sacks last season and totaled 31.5 sacks since the start of 2021 (also most in the FBS), in addition to 49 career tackles for loss (third in Sun Belt history). Being a Day 3 selection, finding a special teams role will be important for Solomon. He'll also have the opportunity to develop behind the likes of Greg Rousseau, Von Miller -- someone that Solomon has modeled his game after -- and AJ Epenesa.
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Round 6, Pick 204 - Tylan Grable, OT, UCF:
NFL: He's a converted Jacksonville State tight end who became a solid left tackle the past two years at UCF. Grable is a quality athlete with great length and potential to be groomed at center, even if he's still learning how to play O-line.
CBS Sports: B. Height and length type at OT who probably plays guard at the next level. Smooth athleticism and can sustain speed throughout the play. Not just quick. Hands are more active and heavy than they are accurate. Good depth add here with positional versatility. Can grow into his frame.
ESPN: Grable started his collegiate career as a walk-on tight end at Jacksonville State, but transitioned to offensive line starting in 2019 and then started 27 games at left tackle while at UCF. He will compete for a roster spot in an offensive line room with veteran players, and said he's prepared to make a switch to a different position if needed. General manager Brandon Beane said that Grable is "gonna have to continue to work on his lower body strength, his power to move guys in the run game, but has great feet you know for pass pro."
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Round 6, Pick 219 - Daequan Hardy, CB, Penn State:
NFL: His return skills might be what keeps him in the league, as Hardy lacks the mass and strength to hold up full time on defense, but sub-4.4 speed is always appealing in a DB.
CBS Sports: A-. Case for most sudden, twitch-up athlete at CB in the class. Super speedy too. Plus recovery talent. Explosiveness in every movement. Not always sticky in coverage but does have high-caliber reps. Check Ohio State game. Erratic tackling and hard to get off blockers because of his size. Chippy in trying to make plays on screens.
ESPN: Hardy brings depth at the cornerback position and skills as a returner. In 2023, he tied the Penn State record for most punt return touchdowns in a season (two) and finished seventh in punt return average (14.6) in school history. Beane noted that if not for the new return rules, he's not sure if they would have picked Hardy, but "this guy can play one of the backup corner spots, but also he's a really nice returner." Buffalo lost multiple players at the returner spot in free agency, and with more focus on it going into this season, Hardy will have the opportunity to compete for the role.
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Round 7, Pick 221 - Travis Clayton, OT, England:
NFL: The Brit, who is 6-foot-7 and 301 pounds with 35-inch arms, ran a 4.81-second 40-yard dash at South Florida's pro day and immediately put himself on scouts' radars late in the process. He's a total project but might be a terrific find with some seasoning, thanks to those unusual athletic traits.
CBS Sports: C+. At 6-foot-7 and 300 pounds with 35-inch arms and a sub 5.00 40-yard dash, this is a ridiculous athlete who is new to football from London.
ESPN: Despite the Bills never seeing Clayton play football, he's an intriguing addition to develop. The initial projection is as an offensive tackle for the 6-foot-7, 303-pound boxer and former rugby player from England after offensive line coach Aaron Kromer came away from watching tape of his workouts. Notably, he ran a 4.79 40-yard dash, faster than all offensive linemen who competed at the combine in the last 10 years. He'll have an opportunity to show the Bills exactly how his skills will translate and what he may be capable of in the NFL, especially as he does not count for a roster spot as part of the International Player Pathway program.
NFL Absolutely Not Fake News: Just like a fantasy draft, the true sleepers can be found in round seven.

I'm a designer at an ad agency and occasionally do post production on commercial shoots. And I've gotten spoiled with the quality of photos and how much information you can recover in the darks and lights from these extremely high resolution raw photos shot on top-tier cameras by the professional photographers we hire.
But I'm looking for a camera for my own personal use. I could save up and get an R5 and that'll probably get me there. But that seems like it's a bit beyond my own needs.
I don't do photography super often. Mainly I will either do street photography when I travel, or I use my camera for utility purposes – Shooting photos of paper mockups, portfolio shots of packaging pieces I've designed, making content videos for my own music instagram, taking photos for album and single artwork (as I also play music and produce for fun), etc.. So I like versatility, but with a niche in street photography.
My problems with the current Rebel T5i:

• I feel like it struggles when I cant get enough light. Photos are quite noisy in general. ISO on this camera only goes up to 12800. It seems newer cameras usually go up higher. But if I need to go above 400 at all, it'll be pretty noisy.
• Dynamic range seems to be a struggle. Even the raw photos are not very forgiving when trying to recover lights and darks. Again, this is in comparison to photos we get back from photoshoots shot on full-frame cameras.
• Mirrored camera. So it is much slower and more bulky and loud than a mirrorless.
• No 4k video. Not the biggest issue, but I'd like the option.

What I'd like:

• I'm seeing some mixed information on full frame sensors. But I feel like that would help with the issues I'm facing and I would appreciate the wider view from a larger sensor.
• I'd like to keep my camera as compact and light as possible when doing street photography. So I'd like there to be decent options as far as pancake prime lenses. I have a canon 24mm which I don't love. I also have a Sigma 35mm Art lens that I absolutely love, except that it's quite large.
• Mirrorless – I think this helps the camera be quieter, faster and more compact. Also great that many mirrorless cameras have a screen in the viewfinder so you aren't literally staring at the sun when shooting at the sun.
• Something that does well in low light with much less noise than I currently get.

What cameras would you guys recommend? What other features and specs are important to look for nowadays?
A friend recommended the Fuji x100v. I love that for the street photography, but I would probably have to keep my Rebel t5i for just general camera utility uses with different lenses. It doesn't seem like a full replacement.
I'd say budget is under $2000 for camera body. But I'm in no rush and can save up the money. I just want to know what to aim for.
Also, currently I have Canon EF and EFS lenses and I know that pretty much anything I'm looking at is going to be incompatible. If I want to stay compact (not ad an inch with a converter), I'm probably going to end up selling these and buying new lenses for a replacement camera.