After many years of scrimping and saving, I've managed to obtain my very own bottomless money pit apartment on the outskirts of Sydney. So, naturally I believe it's a rite of passage for me to attempt putting up a shelf.
I have two main (of a billion) questions. Firstly, I understand that electrical and plumbing work need to be performed by a licensed tradesperson. I watched one episode of Better Homes and Gardens 22 years ago, and it's always stuck in my memory. Also, the best lamb recipe in the cooking segment - but I digress.

1. I want to put up a shelf in the ensuite. I put on big boy pants and went and bought a drill and seemingly one of every single drill-bit that Bunnings sell. I'm looking forward to cracking my first tile, but I am not looking forward to nicking a pipe or cable, or the ultimate scrotum shriveller - nicking both simultaneously. There is already a towel rack on that wall, so there's hope for my grand plan. What I'd like to know is if there is a resource that's easily understood by a common idiot about building codes and stuff so I might have a general idea of where the pipes are? Such as "all pipes must be installed at XX height from blah blah" so I can avoid calling an emergency wrench wielding crack displayer. I got a good quality stud-finder from the green tin roof temple, but somehow it's tells me everything and nothing is a stud at the same time. The instructions said to place my other hand on the wall, but I don't buy into all that astrology and crystals mumbo jumbo.
2. Many of my power points and light switches are looser than a stool after a sweaty evening session down at the local vindaloo dispensary. I have a feeling the previous owner felt themselves a bit handy and may have grabbed a 10 pack of Shenzhen house igniters from the Reject Shop and whacked them in the walls himself. Going by number of dodgy wall outlets and the empty little bag of drugs I found under the sink on settlement day, it's probably likely that's the case. Is there such a thing as, like, an electrical audit? Can a sparky come in and replace the outlets and tell me that the wiring is safe without having to pull all the gyprock off?

Lastly, is there a reputable way to find good area-local tradies apart from wildly googling and looking at every website that can afford good SEO. My distaste of being stung by service people is only second to that of bees and wasps, and it's happened to me before when I fell for a flashy Squarespace template. I'm happy to reasonably pay for deft hands with tools rather than web design.
TL;DR Mildly ambitious smoothbrain bought a drill and wants to know how to not fuck up his property.

• best way to not drill a hole into a pipe
• advice on getting electrical problems fixed
• simple resources for building codes and finding reputable tradies
• lamb

It took a lot of time, and I've finally saved up and am ready to begin the process of purchasing a canoe for my family this summer! I've been lurking around this community for a bit now, and thought I'd take the plunge and ask for some practical advice.
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I have read the pinned post, and will use the template here:
Do you plan on using the canoe Solo or Tandem?

• Primarily tandem with a young teenager, but have younger kids as well

Where are located and where are you paddling? Whitewater or Flatwater or both?

• Central Wisconsin; primarily lake waters, but am really wanting to do some back-water canoeing like inlets, creeks, and small rivers.

Experience of paddler(s)?

• No experience with paddling, but I grew up on the Oregon coast so I have a lot of boat experience in salt-water and on the Columbia.

Size of paddler(s) & passenger(s)? Is there also a Hound Dog? Kids?

• I myself am about 250, my oldest is around 150, and my other 3 range from 50# - 75# each

Capacity needs (multi-week expeditions? Day trips? How long would be the longest overnight trip you anticipate?) Are you minimalist, do you bring all the luxuries including the kitchen sink, or somewhere in the middle? If you have an idea of actual gear weight, all the better.

• My goal is to go camping for at most 2 days with it, and also fishing. I don't need to bring everything; I'd like a 2 person tent and fishing or hunting gear, extra clothes, and some small commodities like a small gas stove (the real little ones you can screw into the little Coleman propane tanks) and canned food.

Stability (& Capacity) vs Speed - where on the spectrum are you happiest? Fast canoes are fun, but they are less stable and haul less. Related: Are you fishing, and how important is this aspect to you?

• I don't much care about speed. I want something that is stable enough I can stand up if I need to without having to worry too much about tipping immediately. Fishing is my primary goal.

Is light weight important for portaging or loading on a vehicle? Do you need a yoke for portaging/carrying?

• I'm pretty strong, but I'd like to keep it under 75# since I would like to portage.

How will it be stored - will it be inside, outside & protected, outside & exposed to sun?

• In a garage; garage is not temperature controlled.

Do you have any specific needs/desires when it comes to hull material?

• I've been seriously eyeing up T-Formex but have looked into Kevlar

Budget?

• ~$3,000

What do you want to do?

• Fish, camping, and exercise

​
I have been looking into Esquif canoes a lot, and am really leaning towards the Heron. It has 3 seats in the design, which would allow me to "comfortably" take at least 2 of my kids out with me at the same time. I have thought about the Mallard as well.
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What worries me is the square backing. I definitely can't afford a motor right away, and I don't really want one. I've read and seen on videos that a square back is far from ideal for a paddler. I've thought about the Scout, but it seems a little small for us.
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I've looked at about every canoe Esquif has on their website, and I can link their videos and websites all day, but that won't help anyone. I'm hoping someone can give some practical advice on a good choice for a family canoe. Thanks y'all!

Hi all,
I am currently having my kitchen refurbished and also had some additional requirements for the project e.g., replacing windows, knocking through to make kitchen diner. (Edit: none load bearing stud confirmed with SE)
I went to a local reputable kitchen company who put me in touch with their recommended buildefitter. The project was outlined, the kitchen firm and their builder provided quotes and we accepted.
Work is underway but very quickly I am starting to doubt the competency of the builder and even more worryingly, his compliance with regulations and necessary certifications and I was wondering if anyone could advise on the following?
Replacement windows/patio doors - the builder is not FENSA registered but stated that he used a well known local firm that we have used in the past. The windows were installed whilst we were out. I believe the windows are indeed from the reputable company given the wrapping but suspect that the builder may have installed them himself to cut corners as the installation is not up to their standard (expanding foam sticking out around frames, no silicone etc)
What do I do if this proves to be the case? I believe this needs to be certified.
Gas / Electrical works - Again the builder stated that he used reputable local firms. We have had new lighting, sockets and appliances. We did see the electrician and feel content that he is bona fide but who should provide the relevant certificates?
We did not see the gas fitter but understand that we will need some sort of certificate as the gas hob is being replaced. What do we need and who should issue this?
Plumbing work - We have had a radiator moved and two radiators replaced. The sink, taps and drains have not been moved but do require replacement pipework. Are there any regulations/certifications needed? If so, who should issue?
We acted in good faith that the kitchen firms recommended builder was trustworthy and competent and he may yet put some issues right but I am starting to worry that we will end up with non-compliant work and no certificates.
Could anyone advise on the above and what we should do next?
We have already paid 60% and I don’t want to withhold money unnecessarily but I am not content with the work, which is yet unfinished, and I am worried that once paid he will disappear, certificates will never arrive and I’ll be left trying to hope for retrospective approvals/certificates at great cost.

Currently I'm someone in the trades who works in the service industry in a small metro area.
Let me tell you this the boomers have not just kicked down the ladder but also set it on fire in the residential service trade, partly in the commercial space, and maybe barely in the mechanical side of things.
Example? One of my bosses since the 70's Said his starting wage in 1970 was $8.6/hr for residential service work in his first year being a journeyman. Adjusted for inflation its $57.47 his first year a journeyman plumber. Working 60 hours a week in residential service.
What happens though as time goes on though is as these guys get old, they can't do plumbing or ac anymore. Then they get promoted to management, oh no someone has to pay their salaries though, they up prices. Oh, wait though the customer does not want to pay that price, and because of the laws of supply and demand they bring in more revenue by actually reducing prices, but they do not want to make less so they take money from the techs.
This cycle happens over and over again, it gets to the point where I'm at. 7 technicians, and 4 managers. Average labor for a residential service company in a major metro with a lot of overhead? $300-$400/hr for residential service work whether it be ac, heating, plumbing, or electrical. Parts back then used to be 40-60% the value of the ticket. Now the median is like 10% the value of a ticket to a max of 30%.
They would rather spend $8,000 to bring in a sales trainer to train a bunch of people to sell a $1,500 kitchen sink faucet to an old, retired couple than themselves retire; They can't though, they blew through all their cash and did not save it or just want to work forever.

I came to the US for a master's degree in Fall 2019. The timing was terrible. I spent 1.5 years in lockdown due to Covid and felt terrible. Then, from Q4 2022, I faced the fear of layoffs, H1B lottery, and H1B stamping, until I finally got laid off last month.
I wrote a post that went viral. thanks to everyone who reached out. I was devastated and each comment on that post helped me a lot. I'm still job searching with 44 days left in my grace period. I've been applying for jobs for a month without a single callback. No one is hiring someone with less experience(your resume isn't even viewed if u have < 5yoe). I do have debt, but it's against my property in India which I bought last year and I've convinced my family to sell it and clear my debt.
So, the grind from 2019 till now—from August 2019 to December 2021 for my master's, and from January 2022 to April 2024 at my job—has left me with a net worth of $50k after clearing my $60k education loan. I lived alone without room mate for 3 years(cost was high but I had terrible experience with room mates in univ, maybe due to the lockdown). I visited three states on a solo trip after starting my job, enjoyed week-long luxury vacations each time and savored my ME time. I never went on a vacation in India with my parents for 22 years(my only vacation was grandparents house, lol).
Living alone here, I learned to cook, assemble furniture, and fix things like the kitchen sink and plumbing skills I wouldn't have learned in India. Despite the sadness of losing my independent life, I'm slowly coming to terms with reality. It seems a blessing in disguise sometimes because it's better if I return to India, as my mental health is deteriorating, possibly due to loneliness or depression. I feel there is a void in my life and i just cant explain it.
I just wanted to post this for everyone who thinks everything is sorted in the US once you come here for a master's. I have seen many people who graduated last year and haven't found a job yet, they're working in local stores, hotels, and gas stations to clear their student loan. Not everyone who comes to the US from India lands a job at FAANG, that's a small number.
Youtubers and Instagrammers are misrepresenting reality every day for their likes, views(especially that guy, Parth, on Instagram). He paints a different picture of the US, hiding the immigration struggles and luring young minds from India.
A net worth of $50k after five years is pretty disappointing by Desi standards. I console myself that at least I'm not in $100k debt like others who haven't found a job yet after graduating. Please decide wisely about your future and finances. I feel I lost my late 20s chasing the American dream.
Physical health + Mental health + family >>>>>>>>>
Vent over. Bye

The other night I heard my water alarm go off in the basement and when I went down to check it discovered that some water had been leaking from back behind the washer dryer. I hadn't been running it but had just drained a full kitchen sink, and I think at the time the dishwasher was possibly running or had been running recently.
It wasn't a ton of water and by the time I got down to check it I didn't even see water actively dripping from anywhere, but based on what pipes were wet I'm pretty sure the water had come up out of the washer stand pipe. I tried filling the sink and draining it to replicate tonight and it didn't do it this time, but it did gurgle very loudly and the washer stand pipe shook while this happened. There was also a slight gassy smell.
The kitchen sink drain connects to the main wastewater pipe high up near the ceiling, and then towards the bottom of that pipe there's the washer stand pipe attached. I've had a plumber tell me in the past that this isn't vented, and my kitchen sink definitely gurgles quite a bit when you pour things down it and when the dishwasher is running. There's also a p-trap on the kitchen sink, in addition to the one in the basement attached to the kitchen drain line. My guess is this is because there at one point was a garbage disposal on the sink upstairs (found it in the garage) and they just smacked a p-trap on when they took it out. Because I'm pretty sure I don't need two?
Because the sink is up right against a window and I'm not too keen in running a pipe up through my walls and roof to vent right now, I'm guessing I'd have to install and air admittance vent under the sink. But I'm unsure if that'd fix the potential issue I ran into last night where water came up from the stand pipe, or if that was more likely caused by a blockage. Overall the sink has been draining at a fine speed.
Advice or correction on my understanding of things appreciated, I've only been a home owner one year and am learning new things every day with my century home.

I (22m) live with my cousin (22m). I had moved out since I was 20 into my own house that my dad bought my sister which evidently been handed down to me. My father paid off the house so all he gave me to worry about are the utility bills. The bills comes out to be 300 a month. I handle all the bills while my cousin just sends me through Zelle his portion. Other than that we share the cost of everything pretty” fairly”. I usually am the one to tell my cousin when he should be buying stuff like the necessities like toilet paper, paper towels, toilet bowl cleaners, etc. whenever he goes shopping, it’s only for what he thinks the house needs (usually only foods)
Routine: My cousin works 40 hours a week with some days of the week he may work 12 hours. He enters at 2pm and gets home anywhere between 10:30-2am. His routine is pretty much, wake up at 12pm, take a shower, get ready, get to work by 2am (only a 30 min commute due to traffic). When he gets home, he would pretty much smoke weed, play video games and finish off his night watching tv. Rinse and repeat every single day. He claims he can’t get adequate sleep.
Kitchen/ dishes issue: When it comes to chores, he is very poor when it comes to it. We had a routine where we would switch on and off who does the dishes by who did them last. Whenever I have dishes that I need to do, I tend to do all of them and clean the sink itself as well but when it’s his turn, he only does whatever he can in that free time being 1 sink and/or leave all the pots and pans left for me.(I have 2 sinks) we had multiple discussions where the dishes are becoming a problem because they pile up pretty bad to where they start to smell. He told me to let’s no longer do the “your turn for the dishes strategy” but just do the dishes whenever we can. Since last month, I had done the dishes 80% of the time as he never did them after he got out of work. It’s been dreadful as I know I am picking up the slack whenever he is not doing his 50%. Let me inform you guys that he is the type of person to leave the drain hole without the middle piece to prevent food from going down the drain because “it was clogging the sink”. There was a time where I told him that I will be cleaning out the fridge to which I did while he did the dishes and he left some for tomorrow to which it never got cleaned by him but instead piled on until the following week. I had told him 2 weeks ago that if he can clean the stove as there is buildup of grease/ oil and grime. As well as the microwave to which he agreed but he never cleaned the microwave and he did clean the stove but never washed / dried the shiny trim that is removable from the sink. Instead what he did was put it in the sink and left it there for 3 days until I told him to clean what he left.
Smoking Issue: Overall he is a person that has some respect for the house but he is living too comfortable I would say and is using my kindness to an advantage. I used to have a roommate which would throw get togethers every week or so and whenever she has multiple people over, she would feel like to smoke a cigarette inside the house without asking me. She didn’t do this on a daily basis but only whenever there are people in a party setting. I told my cousin to not do this and which he agreed. Soon after him moving in, he would smoke a blunt in his room which would make the house smell like weed and would occasionally creep into my room through the vents. I told him to stop smoking blunts / joints as it makes the entire house smell which he understood and began to smoke bongs only. I would say smoking a bong is 100x better than joints. Smells a bit but not where I am constantly thinking about it. As long as it does not smell like weed while I’m in the bathroom, room, living room, or kitchen.
Lawn: It’s starting to get warmer and I have paid 80 bucks for spring cleaning work from this landscaper and mentioned it to my cousin that we should go half and half. He disagreed and said we should work on it ourselves. I didn’t care about spending 80 bucks so I bought it and told him that I don’t expect him to pay half to just consider it me doing my turn in a way. Well it began to grow after a week pretty quickly and needed a trim again. Instead of me just tellling him “hey it needs a cut” I just cut it myself again after I worked 8 hours, a 10-6. After that I told him to cut it in 1-2 weeks and which he said okay but when it was getting closer to 2 weeks, he couldn’t cut the lawn as it began to rain and it was pushed back to 3 weeks. when he was cutting the lawn, he took separate days to cut the back and front and when he was cutting the back, he had asked me to buy a rack as there was a lot of grass ontop of the lawn and which I did. He ended up making me rack the lawn as we went out randomly to a bar that night. The lawn is pretty big, so I only did 30% and which he never finished the job. The next week being this past week, he had went outside to cut the grass as he just wants me and him to cut the grass as we go whenever one of us has the chance. That day we had a lot of dishes to do and the grass I had the ability to mow the next day as I had the day off. Overall I just am getting frustrated with the change of dynamics of how things were getting done as now it just seems like he wants to find someway of not doing work for a week or 2 consecutively rather than staying on a planned schedule.
Bathroom: The bathroom has been minor but yet just frustrating as whenever I use the bathroom, I always set up a new roll of toilet paper when I finish it into the holder and when I am drying my hands off with the hand towel, I hang it up neatly back where I had it placed. Now when it comes to my cousin, he does things differently. When he finishes the toilet paper roll, he leaves the old one in the holder and grabs a new one and leaves it infront of the toilet where I have a shelf at. I told him multiple times to just put the toilet paper roll in the holder where it belongs and he agreed but still ignored me. Finally after he lived there since October of 2023, he finally did it as of recently. Just once. When he washes his hands, he leaves the hand towel on the table when he can just put the hand towel up normally keeping the bathroom as it possibly can. Another thing which I take blame for my part is the leaving the clothes in the bathroom. There is a little space under the sink that can fit a laundry basket for dirty clothes and I use that area for my clothes after I finish the shower. It never sticks out or anything as I push it far back as possible. Whenever my roommate finishes the shower, he leaves his clothes in the bathroom maybe once every week being socks, shorts, underwear, socks by the toilet, by the sink, on the shelves. I take part blame as I do that as well. Not really something I complain about as whenever I see it, I just grab them and throw them in his room.
Tip of the iceberg: I had told my cousin to do a deep clean of the bathroom, while I clean up the kitchen and living room. I believed it was fair as he has not done a deep clean of the bathroom yet while me and my girlfriend (she does not live in my house, just sleeps here for a few days in a row) has cleaned it once each. We scrub the tub, walls, sweep the floor, mop the floor, clean the sink table and wipe down the mirrors. I had told him Sunday to do it and he told me he was going to do it next weekend with no given reason. I told him to do it whenever he has free time as it only takes about an hour and that he has no other chores as I made a bet with him to which I lost and have to do the dishes for the next 2 months (he claimed that I don’t have to follow through with that bet). I am frustrated because why can’t he complete it within the week? The bathroom is not that hard to clean as it just involves scrubbing and personally the tub is very disgusting. I wonder how did he not just want to be proactive. I personally wanted to wait until he decided to clean it but I waited over a month having the expectation that he wanted to clean it. I remember I bought the curtains for it and I know it will have to be replaced but personally I already know if I tell him to replace it, I would feel cheap and just feel guilty that I don’t want to buy the replacement. To me it’s just the principle of things that if I bought the first one, he buys the next and the cycle continues. He told me that he wants to hold the “big chores” for the weekend but I told him that I have the rest of the chores covered as I already partly cleaned the basement (we had a table full of clothes that we didn’t know what to do.) I cleaned the kitchen, and the living room. All he really had to do was fold his clothes and that’s it. I basically told him that that’s really his only chore that he has. I feel like a butthole just for me to tell him as soon as he can but I know he can wake up early being at 10am to clean it or something and go to work after or when he gets home from work to do work around the house instead of smoking pot and playing video games. If he couldn’t do the chore because of work then he could tell me but instead his immediate answer was “I’ll do them next weekend” not a “I’ll try before the weekend but it may end up being done at that time”. Am I just nitpicking? Should I be easier on him as he never lived alone? I feel like I have to tell him to do stuff around the house.

This story has been published in Bloody Twine #1. This first book of mine was my "starter book," so it's very short. My other books are, at the very least, twice as long. In fact, "What's Under There?" is the shortest story I've written in the series, weighing in at just 1604 words. The average read time for it is only 6 minutes and 45 seconds. Enjoy!
WHAT'S UNDER THERE?
What IS under there?
Oliver walked into the kitchen and pulled on the hem of his mother’s dress. The woman looked down at him and smiled, but he knew she was not happy he was in here.
“Yes, my little one?” she asked.
“Can I have a cookie?” asked Oliver.
“May I have a cookie,” corrected his mother.
“May I have a cookie?” asked Oliver.
“You may, my little Ollie, but only one,” said his mother as she held up her right index finger in front of his little face. “Dinner will be ready soon.”
She ushered him over to the little square kitchen table and sat him in his booster chair. He was not a baby anymore, but he needed a little extra boost to properly reach his food.
The woman handed him his oatmeal cookie, and he held the big, round, edible disk in both hands. He took a bite of that delicious cookie, but there was a lot on his young mind, and he knew she could tell.
The older woman cocked her head to one side and looked down at him in strange concern. She smiled as she did so, an affect that Oliver was still not used to. His mother had never smiled so much until just recently.
“What is it, my little one?” she asked.
“When is Daddy coming home?” asked Oliver.
“Now, now,” said his mother with a wagging finger. “Your father has gone away. He’s not coming home.”
“He isn’t?” asked Oliver.
“No, no,” smiled his mother. “We talked about this, my little Ollie. Your father’s gone away, and he’s not coming back.”
He wanted to cry over this again, but he knew she would scold him if he did. She had told him the same thing yesterday, and he had cried then, and she had scolded him to the point where he had been terrified. It was something in her eyes that scared him so, and now he was too afraid to earn her ire again. Even so, his eyes watered at the thought of it, the thought of his father never returning home.
“Now, don’t you cry,” said his mother with a shake of her head. “Big boys don’t cry…I know something that will help, though. I know exactly what you need. You need a glass of milk for your cookie.”
He nodded his head in acceptance. He did not know why his father was not coming home, but he did not want to get in trouble anymore. Nevertheless, he saw something that bothered him, and it bothered him a lot. He couldn’t help but ask about it.
“Mommy, why is your face peeling?” asked Oliver.
His mother’s face was indeed peeling, peeling upon her left cheek, just a little, but enough to bother him, the pale skin off a tiny sliver, a fleck of jet black, like coal, beneath it.
“Don’t you worry about that, my little Ollie,” smiled his mother. “That’s not important.”
“Are you sick?” asked Oliver.
He had been wondering if she were ill, as she was not her usual self, and this bothered him…It bothered him a lot.
“Just eat your cookie, dearie,” smiled his mother.
Oliver took a bite of his cookie, but it tasted funny. He had not noticed it with the first bite, but now he did. He hesitated to have any more, but his mother would not have it.
“Eat all of it,” smiled his mother.
He took to eating the cookie again regardless of the taste. He did not want to get in trouble again.
“That’s a good boy,” smiled his mother.
She went to the fridge and pulled out the milk carton from it. She took down a glass from the left cabinet above the sink and poured him a tall glass of milk.
“Here you are now,” she said as she handed him the glass.
He eagerly took the glass with both hands, as he was sorely in need of a drink, but the milk tasted funny as well, just like the cookie.
“This doesn’t taste right,” said Oliver. “The cookie doesn’t taste right, either.”
“You asked for a cookie, and you got one,” said his mother. “I even poured you a glass of milk, Ollie. Now, don’t be ungrateful.”
His mother reached up and scratched at the left side of her face, and more of her skin peeled away, just a bit, but more than enough to make Oliver nervous.
“Mommy, why is your face peeling?” he asked again. “I don’t like it…”
There were small scratches on her face where her nails had raked across her pale skin, and these scratches left strange lines of ebony, like black trails in peach-brushed snow.
“I told you not to ask that, Oliver,” warned his mother.
She reached up and scratched at the skin of her left cheek again, and even more of her skin peeled away to reveal a small patch of pitch black beneath it.
Now Oliver really needed to know. He needed to know what was wrong with his mother, because something was wrong, very wrong, and he did not know what else to do but ask.
“Mommy, something’s wrong with your face,” he said nervously. “There’s something under your skin. What’s under there?”
His mother’s eyes widened as she turned up her lips in a weird, disturbing smile.
“Do you want to know?” she asked. “Do you really want to know?”
In truth, Oliver did not want to know, because something was very, very wrong, and he was suddenly afraid to know. There was something wrong about everything right now, from his father not returning home yesterday to his mother acting all strange. Everything right now was wrong, so whether he liked it or not, he needed to know, so he nodded his little head in silent reply.
“Okay, my little Ollie,” replied his mother. “I’ll sing you a song about it…but you won’t like it. You won’t like it at all.”
Ollie swallowed a chunk of cookie out of fearful reflex.
His mother stared at him with wide eyes as she sang with a smile.
“What’s under there? What’s under there?” she sang. “Under Mommy’s face, so fine and fair? What’s under there? What’s under there? Under pale, pale skin and long black hair?”
She reached up and peeled off more of her cheek skin, revealing a large swatch of black beneath it, about the size of a thumb, and Oliver’s little hands shook as he squeezed the half-eaten cookie in his clutching fingers.
“Daddy, Daddy, found a book,” sang his mother. “He dug it out of a hidden nook. It told a lot of horrid things, written for the ancient kings. He said the words, he read them loud, and then sprang out a turbid cloud. Black and slick and old as ages, it billowed from the musty pages.”
His mother continued to smile as she peeled off a large flap of pale skin from her left cheek. Beneath it were her teeth, the ivory pegs flawless in the light, but as she peeled backwards toward the end of her jaw, more teeth were revealed, all the same, but many more than there should have been, all the way back to the end of her jaw, all set in a line of ebony flesh beneath an outer layer of peeling, pale skin.
“What’s under there? What’s under there?” sang Oliver’s mother. “Under Mommy’s face, so fine and fair? What’s under there? What’s under there? Under pale, pale skin and long black hair?”
The cookie crumbled under Oliver’s grip, the flecks falling like dust to the kitchen table. He shook in his chair, his mouth partially open, his eyes wide, his skin blanching as he continued to watch and listen to his mother.
“Ancient, ancient, billowed, and swirled, it sprang from the pages and into the world,” sang his mother. “Existing long before Noah’s Sea, antediluvian, finally free!”
It was something in her eyes that caused Oliver to shake, the madness and fury in his mother’s eyes that held him in place in his booster chair.
“Daddy ran with all his heart, but he was quickly torn apart,” sang his mother. “Mommy screamed and tried to shout, but she was eaten from the inside out!”
His mother tore off the pale skin from the entire left side of her face, the flap of it falling onto the floor in a wet plop of a white sheet, like rain-soaked paper.
The obsidian flesh beneath the peeling skin was slick and looked to be made of tiny overlapping scales. Her left eye was a golden color with a single, black, vertical slit where a normally-round pupil should have been, and a fire was burning within that black slit, but frosty-blue, like a flame made of ice.
Even her smile was uncanny, as the right side of her face held normal teeth and lips, while the left side of her face held a lipless mouth with teeth that spanned all the way back to her neckline.
“Now it’s time for a little snack, made with fear in a fleshy sack,” sang his mother. “Alive, alive, where you cannot move! That makes for a more delicious food!”
She finished her song with unusual gusto, the very sound of it echoing around the kitchen to assault Oliver’s little ears without mercy.
Oliver’s terror-induced paralysis finally broke as he willed his muscles to move. He hopped down from his booster seat and ran for the kitchen door, but the drug in his cookie and milk slowed him down far too much for him to actually make it there.

Grout went in today but it was too dark to get pictures when I was able to look (light gray grout)
The counters will be sanded and stained a rich dark brown.
Under cabinet lighting and outlets to go under the upper cabinets.
Dishwasher (1 of 2 in the entire kitchen) to go in the middle.
Enamel cast iron Kohler sink with a brass semipro faucet from Krauss.
Can’t wait for the final result!

[Arizona] just wondering what my options are here: currently live in a quadplex that is privately owned and the owner uses a property management company. My lease expired in October 2022 so I’ve been on a month to month “lease” since then. The owner is pretty hands off and has changed prop mgmt companies multiple times which hasn’t been an issue but now I’m dealing with a leak that has turned into major plumbing repairs and floor renovation.
The plumbing repairs keep getting delayed due to new issues and there is a huge hole in the bathroom wall. I haven’t been able to use my washer, kitchen sink or the majority of my living room for 7 days now and the rep for the property management company hasnt been very responsive. I understand that AZ defaults to a month to month lease if the signed one expires and the tenant hasn’t been offered an official lease renewal so I’m wondering if I have any leg to stand on here or if I should just cut my losses and move asap.

It’s gunna be a long one so I suggest getting your self a drink get comfy and I’ll try to make it the easiest read I can. As the title suggests this is what happened to me, my wife and our 2 year old son. The lord as my witness everything written is 100 percent true and accurate with many witnesses.
I don’t even know where to start this so I’ll just go from where I feel is relevant, I 31 male moved to Cornwall uk in 2018 then 24 coming up to 25. I moved into a beautiful one bedroom flat with sea views with nothing but a motorbike 1 bag on my back and a starting date for work 18th February 2018.
All was fine everything was going good life was finally looking up I moved from a city to rural countryside breathtaking beaches, beautiful people and I was ready to finally start adulthood. When I moved into my flat I had nothing, absolutely nothing apart from 7 days worth of clean boxers and socks a guitar and some chef whites. The flat was unfurnished apart from a bed frame and a chest of drawers so naturally I would have to buy everything I needed while I was there, I didn’t even have a mattress for my bed. 2018 was a big year for Cornwall as we had the beast of the east, heavy snow (now I like snow and being a northern boy I was used to it but this stuff came down thick and heavy)! As I said I had a motorbike for transport and I was in work when the beast of the east hit and obviously couldn’t ride back home as the snow was about 2 ft deep by the time I left.
So I walk home and as soon as you entered my flat my bedroom was to the right of the front door a cubard directly in front of you my bathroom just to the left and my living room just down the hallway to the left also. In my hall way I had a shoe rack where I always used to put my shoes, now given I had just walked 3 miles in the snow I could swear I put my bike boots on said shoe rack when I got home. Any way I carried on with my evening as normal and played guitar drank a few beers and just generally chilled before getting my head down. I was sleeping on my couch as my mattress hadn’t arrived yet, but the next morning when I woke up my bike boots was in-front of the couch like some one had jumped on them walked up to where I was sleeping and jumped out. Not only that my heater had been pulled out of the alcove it was in and turned on. I passed this off as nothing it was probably just me and I didn’t remember.
Fast forward a few months nearly a year and I’m all settled my flat is great, my work is great life is good. I met a beautiful young lady (that’s now my wife) although we just started as friends. I’m so happy.
How ever I worked on a holiday park as a chef, one day I get a knock on the back door to the kitchen. There was a man that I had been serving all week and he said sorry to bother you but my wife would like a word with you. Now I’m thinking great what have I done now. But she was smiling and happy and said to me is your gf or wife pregnant I had neither at the time, so I responded nope why do you ask? She told me her name it was carrol (forget her second name) she was a head at a spiritual church in wales. She proceeded to tell me I had a little boys spirit following me around and she could see him. I didn’t know how to react, so I just said oh ok really! And took her details added her on Facebook etc etc, now a few months go by things in the flat was getting weird not that I recognised at the time but like things moving / going missing and I just played it off like it was me being tired from work.
Again fast forward a little bit I’m dating my now wife and mother to my children, she’s staying over but she worked evenings till early hours in the morning when i would wait to go pick her up, at this point I had sold my motorbike to buy a car (more practical and I needed one as per the condition where I worked was I had to have a car to collect stock of a morning).
One night she was in work I was sat at my table designing her tattoo for the back of her leg as I love to draw, I used to have lanterns on my table that where on like a metal frame but they could swing. That night I was drawing both lanterns where swinging in unison so I FaceTimed I will call her red (as I don’t wish to identify her by name). While on face time I showed her the lanterns and I stepped away from the table thinking my shading was moving them and the second I did I swear to the almighty lord they stoped dead! Dead centre like they hadn’t even moved. She witnessed this and was like what the ****.
But once again we put it to the back of our minds and fast forward a few days / maybe a week. I used to have a picture of red and her best friend one of them stupid long ones that you get from a photo machine at an arcade, locked behind my intercoms phone. One day we was stood in the living room and i promise no one was near it but this picture came from behind the phone and landed in the middle of the living room floor. We laughed about it at the time and was like oooooo spooky but we was stupid!
So strange things kept happening red hated being in the flat on her own and hated being in my room as I had a built in wardrobe and she would always say she felt uneasy. The strange things never stopped but we always just brushed it off. Until …….
Our son is born now there’s a 2 year gap where my little lad I’ll refer to him as A, the happings never stopped or eased but we would always just pass it off, how ever when A was about 2 he would always talk to him self in the kitchen and say brother, look daddy brother but not a second later he would scream. Any one whos a parent knows there kids sounds and this sound instantly got my back up am talking as a father hearing my son make this noise I was ready to kill, the anger and rage that I felt inside was something I can’t even put into words, my baby boy was terrified of something and fatherly instincts kicked in.
Every morning while at this flat I would wake up with little bumps or marks across my body, but I always thought it was where I slept or how I slept, but red noticed the same time my lad was doing what he was in the kitchen I was waking up with what looked like chain marks around my wrists and arms and sometimes I awoke with scratches not 4 or 5 like a human hand but 3, just 3 linear scratches across my body.
Covid 2.0 come along, we all get locked down now hear I am with a young family so I did my door badge, I got night work as a security guard and red would refuse to sleep with A until I got home she would always say it felt like something / some one was watching her.
Now red had family down, and said family is a medium (at the time I would have laughed at this as I was very much so on the fence). But one night reds auntie was at her mums house and was doing a reading. During this reading she said she become overtaken by an entity she started pulling this horrible smile that my little lad used to do. (I wasn’t there to confirm this). But the next morning red and I and A are out and about in the car just been for hot chocolate when red gets a phone call from her mum.
Are you with T (me) red says yeah why? Her mum says get T and A to mine right now they both need to be saged with a white feather. So at this point I’m like *** off laughing but then I thought **** it I’ll ride the bus to the next stop. I walk into reds mums and her aunt (who I’ve never ever met doesn’t even know my second name) says to me you would have had a little boy, he would have been around 5 now and his birthday is in July.
Truth be told before I moved to Cornwall I had relations with a lady they should have been forbidden and she fell pregnant, but unfortunately lost the baby. How ever she was pulled to one side by a stranger in the street whom said 10th of July he would have been here.
So this lady reds aunt doesn’t know a thing about me but knew this, knew what faces / smirks A used to do and knew about him screaming from the kitchen and climbing up me in panic. She hadn’t seen or heard any of this no one had.
She proceeded to tell me I had a evil entity attached to my back and that’s why i suffer with back pain, this entity was hiding behind the spirit of my unborn and when A seen him or tried to interact with him he would come out from behind my unborn to scare him. He would use A•s fear and trauma as energy to try and make its self stronger as its end goal was me. It was terrorising my son to get to me.
I went white what the actual **** is going on, I spent the next few weeks thinking I was going insane. But things at the flat was getting worse I contacted Carrol and she said go into every room every storage room / cubard every dark space and say if you are not here with love and light then I command you too leave
A was getting more and more anxious in the flat, around this time we had been accepted for a house and one day he was in the hall way, I was getting the hoover out and he kept slamming the door on the cubard shut saying no daddy I thought he was being cute. I was wrong.
As things started to escalate we tried to reach out for help I’ve gone from a sceptic to a full on believer. We went to a witch shop a couple of towns over, the sell crystals candles etc etc. but when we walked in the woman wouldn’t even look at me, I tried to explain my story but A started messing around so I took him out side and this lady said to red no candles or crystals are going to help him with what he’s got she gave red two business cards for 2 white witches.
So let’s fast forward again at this point reds had enough A is unhappy! But we have a new house to move into so we said we would stay in the flat one last night before we go to the new house the next day. Our last night in the flat didn’t last from the second we walked in it felt so cold so unwelcoming just horrible atmosphere. So we packed up and went and slept on the couch in our new house. That was the last time red or A would step foot in that flat.
I had given my notice to my landlord about moving so I was there cleaning with L that’s reds sister and as we are cleaning we are both in separate rooms, she is in the kitchen I’m in the bedroom I hear her scream and then she ran into the room I was cleaning. Turns out this thing was not happy not happy at all. She was cleaning the cubard under the sink and as she tried to close the door she said it felt like something was pushing against it. She let go of it and it slammed shut. I did actually hear it from the bedroom, I told her to calm down it will be ok and we will work together.
I walked into the bathroom now this flats been empty all day I had had a wee when I first got there but other than that, nothing no one had used the bathroom. But when we walked in there was water everywhere sink was soaking wet, shower tray was soaking and the black and glitter tiles where soaked. We just wanted to get the **** done and get out. That night she left and swore she would never go back. Any who
I get reds mum over to sage the flat and she said she hated being in there, and I have 3 friends they are all into the paranormal, and wanted to explore the flat. I allowed them in as they where down on holiday and I’ll call him S is just like me emotionally dead only had two but after he left that flat he got in our friends car, he broke down in full blows tears and said he’s never felt so empty unloved and lonely. Another of our friends said he saw a long thin figure in the living room all in black with no eyes and was not of this world. He said the reason it had no eyes is because the eyes are a portal to the soul and things not of this plain can’t copy the eyes.
Any way let’s move on I left that flat and every time I left I had to say you are not welcome to follow me or attach to me, you are not welcome in my home or around my family you must stay here or go back to where you belong
Me red and A have lived in our new place a couple of years he’s happy no more screaming and running up me, red is comfortable and I haven’t awoke with chain marks since we started living here.
Red has crystals on all entry and exit points, she had the house saged, but on a whole she is happy and content, I am just never allowed to talk about these events infront of her. Last I heard that thing is still at the flat with my little unborn boy and my A•s grandad who did well to protect A.
This is my story that changed me from a sceptical to a firm believer in paranormal entity’s.

Hello,
First time having cats.
Looking for advice, especially from anyone experienced with cats in homes with several young children.
We have two males almost one year old, and a female. They came from a friend's farm, and as such, have lived at our house in the country mostly outside, with access to beds, food/water and shelter in outbuildings, insulated garage, etc.
But if they occasionally come inside, one in particular is obsessed with people food. No medical issues, and has plenty of access to cat food (he's also an excellent mouser). He will sometimes eat all of his food fast enough to then eat the other two cat's food, even though we give him extra.
Or he'll decide he's feeling picky and graze throughout the day.
Either way, he's constantly after the bits of food the kids drop under the table, begging while I'm cooking, and he'll go on the table and counter or baby's highchair if we're not there. I've found him licking dishes in the sink, digging in the trash, and he even jumped onto the stove while I was cooking!
My question is, is it possible to feed my gaggle of young children (several toddlers + a newborn) without having to lock the cat up?
If I'm prepping lunch, or setting food on the table, the cat will absolutely go for it if it's left unattended. And if anyone knows life with little kids, there's 100 things that pull you away, so food is often out unsupervised before I have a chance to finish with it.
There is no way for me to supervise the food 100% of the time while also tending a crying child, changing diapers, etc.
He will not stay outside if I put him out again if he knows there's food happening in the house. He'll come in if the kids are in and out, and can push in the window screens if the windows are open. The only place is to shut him in the basement, but little people traffic can accidentally let the cat in the house again. (The basement has the playroom)
I've tried both placing him outside with a food reward and without. He goes outside when I walk him to the door, but will not stay outside unless the windows and doors are shut (he gets in through the screens).
He is never fed scraps from the table, I only give the cats leftovers, treats, etc. outside or in the basement, AKA away from the kitchen.
I'm strongly considering rehoming him, even though he's otherwise a very nice cat.
It's becoming quite stressful between the toddlers, baby and then trying to keep this one cat away from the food. The other two cats do not have this same focus on food, and will stay outside if I put them back out while cooking.
Thanks!

As a maintenance man, I’ve definitely seen my fair share of oddities in peoples homes. However, the story I’m about to tell you is definitely one that is new to me.
So as I stated before I work in maintenance. Commercial and residential. Been doing it almost 10 years now. Everyday is something new and that’s why I love this job. Helping people. Seeing their smiles whenever something that was broke is fixed and they are able to go about life normally again. It really makes my heart swell.
The incident in question happened on a day that started out like any other day. I got to work, went into my office, started some coffee and began checking over my workload for the day.
My first work order for the day was in a unit that had a new resident in it. I have yet to meet the young lady in question so as procedure states I gave her a call to let her know I would be stopping by today to take care of the issue she submitted. She had a clogged sink, which, in the years of doing this I know isn’t going to be a long job so best to knock it out early.
When she answered her phone she sounded out of breath. “Hello?” “Good morning Ms. [redacted]. My name is Jimmy the maintenance tech here at [redacted] I was wondering if I could come by and take a look at your sink for you this morning?” There was a long pause. So long I had to see if she was still there.
“Ms. [redacted]?” “Yes! ….I mean yes. You can come by this morning. Umm… yes. That’s fine.” “GREAT!” I respond. “I will be up in about 30 minutes. See you soon!”
I hung up and finished the coffee I had poured while on the phone with her and began gathering any tools I may need for the job.
About 40 minutes later I was standing on her porch and knocking on her door. “Ms.[redacted]? It’s Jimmy with maintenance.” A loud clatter could be heard from the other side of the door before a petite young lady snatched the door open looking very distraught.
“Is everything ok? I can come back later if you..” “No no. You can come in now” she cut me off. “It’s the kitchen sink, right here.” Pointing just passed the threshold into the kitchen. I nod and make my way in closing the door behind me.
I’ll save you the boredom of the explanation of how I fixed the leak but regardless, it was fixed. The odd thing was that she stood there in the doorway to the kitchen the entire time. Not necessarily watching me but seemingly blocking me from the rest of the house.
Although I thought she was acting odd it is not in my job description to be a psychiatrist to people. I fix their sinks, not their heads. I gave her a clean bill of health for her sink and said my goodbyes.
Two days later I get another service request from the same unit. If there is anyone out there familiar with RealPage you know that there is the section that the resident can fill in what the issue is. This one simply said “Other- see comments.” Under the comments says “Please help.”
I make my way back up to her unit to investigate the problem. I was not ready for what was waiting on me on the other side of the door.
A rush to the door and a breathless, petite woman stands in front of me.
Good morning Ms. [redacted]. What seems to be the issue. She takes a deep breath, “I have another clog.” “Oh no. Where is it? Let me take a look so I can go grab my…” Before I knew it she had snatched me inside by my shirt and slammed the door behind us. “You have been extremely nice and so willing to help since I’ve been here.” Even though I had only been here once. “You seem like a really great and trustworthy guy.” “Thank you.” I say trying to hide the shock and uneasy feeling I felt creeping up my gut.
“I have something very important I need your help with. Follow me.” With that she started back towards the steps and beckoned me to follow her. Once at the top of the steps I could see into the bathroom and could see this was going to be much bigger than even I was ready for.

As a maintenance man, I’ve definitely seen my fair share of oddities in peoples homes. However, the story I’m about to tell you is definitely one that is new to me.
So as I stated before I work in maintenance. Commercial and residential. Been doing it almost 10 years now. Everyday is something new and that’s why I love this job. Helping people. Seeing their smiles whenever something that was broke is fixed and they are able to go about life normally again. It really makes my heart swell.
The incident in question happened on a day that started out like any other day. I got to work, went into my office, started some coffee and began checking over my workload for the day.
My first work order for the day was in a unit that had a new resident in it. I have yet to meet the young lady in question so as procedure states I gave her a call to let her know I would be stopping by today to take care of the issue she submitted. She had a clogged sink, which, in the years of doing this I know isn’t going to be a long job so best to knock it out early.
When she answered her phone she sounded out of breath. “Hello?” “Good morning Ms. [redacted]. My name is Jimmy the maintenance tech here at [redacted] I was wondering if I could come by and take a look at your sink for you this morning?” There was a long pause. So long I had to see if she was still there.
“Ms. [redacted]?” “Yes! ….I mean yes. You can come by this morning. Umm… yes. That’s fine.” “GREAT!” I respond. “I will be up in about 30 minutes. See you soon!”
I hung up and finished the coffee I had poured while on the phone with her and began gathering any tools I may need for the job.
About 40 minutes later I was standing on her porch and knocking on her door. “Ms.[redacted]? It’s Jimmy with maintenance.” A loud clatter could be heard from the other side of the door before a petite young lady snatched the door open looking very distraught.
“Is everything ok? I can come back later if you..” “No no. You can come in now” she cut me off. “It’s the kitchen sink, right here.” Pointing just passed the threshold into the kitchen. I nod and make my way in closing the door behind me.
I’ll save you the boredom of the explanation of how I fixed the leak but regardless, it was fixed. The odd thing was that she stood there in the doorway to the kitchen the entire time. Not necessarily watching me but seemingly blocking me from the rest of the house.
Although I thought she was acting odd it is not in my job description to be a psychiatrist to people. I fix their sinks, not their heads. I gave her a clean bill of health for her sink and said my goodbyes.
Two days later I get another service request from the same unit. If there is anyone out there familiar with RealPage you know that there is the section that the resident can fill in what the issue is. This one simply said “Other- see comments.” Under the comments says “Please help.”
I make my way back up to her unit to investigate the problem. I was not ready for what was waiting on me on the other side of the door.
A rush to the door and a breathless, petite woman stands in front of me.
Good morning Ms. [redacted]. What seems to be the issue. She takes a deep breath, “I have another clog.” “Oh no. Where is it? Let me take a look so I can go grab my…” Before I knew it she had snatched me inside by my shirt and slammed the door behind us. “You have been extremely nice and so willing to help since I’ve been here.” Even though I had only been here once. “You seem like a really great and trustworthy guy.” “Thank you.” I say trying to hide the shock and uneasy feeling I felt creeping up my gut.
“I have something very important I need your help with. Follow me.” With that she started back towards the steps and beckoned me to follow her. Once at the top of the steps I could see into the bathroom and could see this was going to be much bigger than even I was ready for.

stumbled upon this subreddit and thought i would share my most recent incident.
i live alone in a small apartment located next to an antique shop in the middle of town. now, this apartment has seen one death, a drug overdose in the kitchen. he’s never been much of an issue, just steals my vape everyone once in a while or knocks dishes around in my sink when he’s annoyed. however, being that i live next to an antique shop and occasionally help out over there, stuff from the shop tends to make its way into the apartment. i think one of them might have brought her into my home.
now, onto the actual story. there was one night where i was sleeping peacefully in bed when i woke up around 4 or 5 in the morning from a dream where a little girl was watching me and taunting me. i rolled over in bed and thought nothing of it, despite the fact that i couldn’t shake the feeling that i was still being watched and that i couldn’t stop peeking over to my door, which was cracked open slightly so my cat could go in and out as he pleased. so i’m laying in bed, looking up at the crack in the door and back down. finally, i see something dart away from the edge of the door and down the hall, and my cat ran out from under the bed after it. my partner came over and brought me over to their place, where i spent the rest of the night, and then i came back home in the morning. this went on for about a week before he gave me a norse protection charm to wear (he’s norse pagan) and then it stopped.
this wasn’t some cutesy little thing either, i could tell from my dreams and from the energy of the presence that this little girl was angry. she was malicious. i’m just happy she’s gone.

• Welcome to member's vlog #6 which she did on Thursday. She's sick again. Had a nap. Says she's sleep deprived.
  
• She's about to make dinner. No light in the kitchen. She's making rib eye steak. Opens the pkg, shakes seasoning at the camera. Morty is in the kitchen. She says the stray didn't eat what she put out for him.
  
• She says she doesn't consider throwing steaks in the air fryer cooking 'but it's more than I usually do." (ugh She's cooking both of the steaks rather than cook the second fresh when she wants to eat it because lazy.) She flips them and they are not even a little browned. Pale and flabby just like her. No maillard effect for our skinny kween. Takes too long and she's busy busy as we all know. She's about to eat and shakes a coke zero at the camera.
  
• Segue to the bedroom door. She dyed her hair purple but it looks cherry red to me. She likes it. She has something on her eye...could be flaked off makeup.
  
• She's gonna take care of her plants. Why the fuck doesn't she get some of those plastic bowls you put under plans to catch run off? She takes her plants to the sink to water them. As lazy as she is, it amazes me she doesn't save herself the extra steps.
  
• Still fucking with her hair. Rambling incoherently as she waters the plants. Says someone told her to call the tradescantia a 'wandering dude,' only she says wondering dude. She's got her customer service voice on.
  
• Segue to sitting at the desk. We're eye fucking ourself in the camera because we did another application of the purple dye and we love it.
  
• Shaking basil incense at the camera. She thinks her 'allergies' have turned into a cold. (lol, she's such a freaking moron) She had a great time on the weekend wih Lodane. It was super fun. She vlogged it but it hasn't been published yet.
  
• She spent her 41st birthday all alone by choice. She went for a hike (sans dogs, I'm sure.) and did fun stuff she wanted to do. Lodane inspired her to play sims 2.
  
• She has errands today. She has to go to the pet store. She's not feeling well so sorry for her train of thought. She did a red eye shadow. She hasn't used the green or blue and the color of the day won't cooperate until the end of the month.
  
• Segue to driving (sans glasses) waxing poetic about the 'sea of green'. Wants to take us on a nature walk. It's lovely. We're at Petco and she shows us a chinchilla. She's buying milk bones and dog food.
  
• She's whining that she doesn't have enough time to go to TJ Maxx and the book store. (wtf does she do all day?) Turns her camera to show her driving out of the plaza.
  
• She's at the post office. Waxing poetic about the mountain. Opening her po box and there's a big box. She'll open it in 3 or 4 vlogs. Now she's going to Sonic.
  
• Segue to the desk. Thanks for watching. There's public livestream coming soon. She appreciates us. Bye.
  

I need to get this "off my chest". Obligatory "I can't include literally everything that builds up the situation or otherwise we'd end up with a War and Peace thick post.
Me, 35M; Wife: 35F; Sperm Donor 75 M; Mom 72; Aunt 72F; Aunt 2 70s F,
I used to think my childhood and home life was idyllic and great, but as I've aged I've realised how very, very effed up it actually was. It wasn't so much that it was idyllic, it was that I'm AUDHD and was perfectly content to be alone and do my own thing. Some of these realisations have coloured how I view my parents and family and I have stopped thinking of the man who's DNA I share as "dad" and more "Sperm donor" or "his name".
I fully admit that I have a lot of "daddy issues". All I've really ever wanted was a dad to do dad things with; learning how to do things like fix cars, going fishing, learning to drive, etc. Typical sappy 'Merican "Andy Griffith Show" type crap. I know that's not reality for most people, but it's kind of a sore point for me. Because of this, I've kind of spend most of my youth chasing after older males in my life like a lost puppy hoping someone will pick me out of the box left on the side of the road. I'm lucky to have found at least one person in my life who fulfills that role for me. He's only a few years older chronologically but decades older in experience and maturity.
I've learned a lot over the last few years about how things actually were as opposed to how I saw them. Examples being:
1) My sperm donor is a "what's mine is mine and what's your's in mine too"
2) My sperm donor inflated what he actually did as a "provider" and the reality was quite different. The home we lived in was paid for out of my mother's pocket, my immediate needs (clothes, medication, snacks, activities, school needs) were paid for out of my mother's pocket, and money that had been gifted from family for me to go into a college fund "disappeared" right around the time my dad decided to buy a vintage British racing car.
3) My sperm donor has his side of the family convinced he's father and husband of the year.
4) My sperm donor is stubborn. Not in a cute way, but in a way that's resulted in thousands of dollars of home damage, refusal to repair things for decades because he refuses to call in a professional, and literally refusing to allow his spouse to undergo medical treatment for two years past when it was deemed medically necessary.
The first 10 years of my life were ok, but in my early teens my mom got "sick". To lend some context, her mother also "got sick" when she was in her mid forties. There was never a diagnosis and an autopsy of mother's mother showed only a minor stomach ulcer. Both sets of grandparents are long since dead, any family on her side is gone, and I have no one who was around during that time to give me any input or tell me what was going on at that time other than my parents who have opposing views. Mom says her mother was just a very sickly lady but would also tell me stories about how Grandma would do things like steal motorcycles, get into fights, and do all these crazy things as a younger person. SD's version of events is that Grandma always "got sick" whenever someone in their family or friend circle had an event that might not make Grandma the centre of attention. My understanding is that my mom was expected to act as a live in nurse up until she met and married SD. At which point Grandma and Grandpa dropped dead in quick succession. I am also told that Grandpa took and controlled all my mother's wages from her career up until she met my SD.
Mom "got sick" in my early teens and it was on me to be the one to look after her. I was the one who had to help her when she threw up. I was the one to have to remind her to shower, change her clothes, get her meds refilled, etc. I'd go to doctor's appts with her and try to help explain what was happening and what symptoms she was having because unfortunately, a lot of the doctors were male and dismissed her out of hand. She did end up with a fibromyalgia diagnosis, a condition I also share and understand. The majority of her symptoms are stomach issues; ie nausea, vomiting, not wanting to eat etc. When I say she's had the entire gamut of gut health testing done, I mean it's all been done. At least three times. At one point the Gastro she saw told her that he'd exhausted everything and that there is no physical reason for her symptoms and that if she did not at least try to eat, he'd send her for psychiatric evaluation and have her fitted with a feeding tube.
I need to clarify that I too have always had gastrointestinal issues and not too long ago discovered I have coeliac disease. Adhering to that diet has eliminated the majority of my issues. Despite the fact they eliminated this disease as a potential cause in my mom, I suggested trying this and an elimination diet to see if it helped, but she refused. Her diet for years has consisted of white bread and jam, grits, coca cola, and tea exclusively. Occasionally she would get sushi. This is not an exaggeration. That's all she has eaten for years.
Throughout all of this, my SD rolled his eyes and sat on his ass continuing to eat dinner or watch tv while she'd go running to the kitchen to vomit, me chasing after her to try and help. (Mom would at least appear to get faint during these vomiting instances) so I would be there to make sure she didn't pass out as she vomited in the sink, then clean out the sink after her, then help her back to the couch and bring her something to drink.
It's been 20 years of this now. My wife and I have been living in our own home for about 4 years and I am no longer there to be the one to try and clean up the messes and fill in the cracks, as it were. My family has visited us three times, even though we live maybe 45 minutes away. I have returned to my parents house probably about 15-20 times to do repairs to the home. Right now, all "repairs" have stalled out because apparently having things like a functional and safe bathroom aren't nearly as important to SD as buying military collectibles, guns, and gourmet cheeses.
This January Mom landed herself in the hospital with a bloodclot due to falling and hitting her head. My SD didn't take her to the hospital until a full week after she'd fallen and no one called me for a full 24 hours after she'd been admitted. She went back and forth amongst the ER, rehab, and hospital for about two months and the result of all that was that they discovered she has throat dysphagia but no other underlying disorders. She's now home with a G-tube, oxygen, bedside commode, and an in home nurse that visit occasionally.
Right now, what's weighing on me most strongly is that my parents now have my SD's sister living with them and she is constantly singing his praises and talking about what a wonderful and attentive husband he is. I'm honestly enraged about it, especially now that more of the extended family, who frankly couldn't be arsed to return phone calls, emails, or snail mail over the last 30 years, suddenly have opinions and are lauding him for how great he's been.
I feel like I have this Monty Python 10 tonne weight over my head, because I know that when my parents shuffle off this mortal coil there is going to be a veritable dungheap left for me to deal with in their decrepit home. I'm mad and sad and tired and I honestly just don't want to deal with it anymore. I can't stop feeling irritated that my mom has basically just given up on trying to do.... anything. And had done way before there was an "excuse". Holidays are a nightmare for me because there's nothing this woman wants or like or gets excited about. She doesn't have hobbies anymore, doesn't like doing anything, isn't interested in collecting things, doing crafts, etc, even talking. The times I've been around her for any length of time and attempted to talk to her, she just looks at me with this kind of watery eyed and vaguely befuddled expression or answers with one or two syllables. She is NOT suffering any dementia or similar issues and has been tested for such. It's like she just... doesn't care.
I've spent so long trying to make her comfortable, happy, etc. Tried to get her things she liked or get her into things that would make her happy. My wife's mother is only a few years younger and is active in her community, teaches classes, does art, goes on trip with my FIL, and visits and talks to people regularly. As do most of my peers' parents. This is really hard and I feel very sad and lonely about it. My poor wife has heard it all over and over again and I hate bothering my already stressed close friends with my rants....

I was raised by an ISFJ (OCD) dad and an ENFP mom. It was all feelings and “why didn’t you clean the sink after brushing your teeth?” My ISTP outlet was sports. Under the hood of a car was scary. Anything broken was scary. I was good at school so I did that. I loved teamwork and leadership.
Later I got a job managing restaurants. During Covid, I had moved up to running 14 stores at a time but had laid off almost all of my employees and maintenance so they could make more money at home.
I had to shut down 7 restaurants to save money. I was supposed to go around and installed hasps and locks for additional security. Was not a handy man. On my first hasp, I took my power drill and a drill bit and started trying to drill a hole for the screw on the hasp. It would not go in. I was drilling into metal so I pushed harder and snap the bit broke. So I went to Walmart and bought another and snap broke another. Told my boss I was having problems. He said “you’re still working on your first one? That should’ve taken 5 minutes.” I was going on an hour and a half. He suggested self tapping screws so I went and bought those. They wouldn’t go in either! I pushed on the drill so hard I pushed a button in and finally went. For 2 hours I was trying to drill a hole going left instead of right. In fairness, Covid was a wild ride and I was exhausted.
Since then, I’ve learned how to fix AC’s. I’ve changed every light in my house. I leveled the ground and built my children a playground. I remodeled my kitchen. I have fixed the dvd player in my wife’s car. I install our car batteries, change our oil. When something is broken at work, they call me. When something is broken in other areas, they call me.
For 30 years I thought I couldn’t fix things. I learned I was ISTP at 22 and still thought I couldn’t fix things. Now, that’s what I do constantly.

I’m looking for advice on treating Uranium in my well. I wanted to do a whole house RO system but I’m being told my mechanical room is too small basically a 4x8 room. The alternative is the under the kitchen sink unit but I want the bathroom sink and shower to be filtered as well. It is a small ranch house on a slab so no basement to put the unit in.

If you’d told me that the visitation with my son, an event that happened only every other weekend, would be extended indefinitely, I would’ve jumped with joy. In the end, I wish the circumstances under which they unfolded had never happened.
The clouds were sightless in the clear sky the day Jasmine dropped off my boy, a perfect day to play a little catch in the yard or go fishing at the nearby stock pond. Cyrus bounced out of the car and ran joyously toward me, unaware that his old man was a perpetual fuck up that had broken up the family in the first place. Oh well.
It was a happy day, the birds sang their old nostalgic tunes of a lost Summer in my own childhood. It was warm, not too warm, and the neighborhood was buzzing with excitement as the Spring showers had come to a close. It was as close as it could get to perfect.
The evening light danced against the tree tops, turning a violet hue as dusk began to settle in. Burnt orange water reflected the dying sun as it continued sinking away to nothing. We grabbed our tackle box, the giant beige one my uncle gifted me before he was stolen by cancer, and filled it with the empty, crumpled up bits of plastic that once held bologna sandwiches. As I said, it was a perfect day, very reminiscent of my own childhood.
We’d thrown the fat bluegill back that we had caught, I hadn’t felt like messing with cleaning and cooking them. Instead, dinner would likely be mac n’ cheese with some cut up hot dogs, a staple in my household whether or not Cyrus was visiting. Hopefully I hadn’t run through Oscar Meyer supply.
Home never felt so lonely, the walls never seemed so barren of old family pictures when Cyrus wasn’t around. Sometimes, he only added to the pain. I would never tell him that, though.
Even with the faucet turned all the way up, the water dribbled out and made boiling pasta a very patient game. Cyrus was babbling about some game he was playing on my phone. ‘He’s just a kid’, I thought, and pretended to be interested in whatever the hell he was talking about.
The sun had vanished and the moon was especially bright that night, having slid nearly halfway to its crescendo before dinner was finally done. Cyrus had stolen my phone to the living room, staring at the bright characters absentmindedly as a nondescript Netflix show played in the background.
“Here, buddy, sorry about the wait”, I sat the bowl of neon yellow stuff in front of him, the pink scramble of hotdog jutting out made me feel… a little ashamed? I plopped down next to him and flipped through the various titles on Netflix, most of which I had already seen a couple of times. Cyrus tossed the phone aside and picked at the mess of ‘food’ in the bowl. I can’t remember if he took a bite or not.
“Dad!”, I jumped, reeling from the doze I had fallen in. If Jasmine was here, it would’ve been such a perfect day, such a perfect day. Instead, this is where it all fell apart.
He massaged furiously at his temples, his knees pulled tight against his heaving chest.
“What’s the matter, are you okay?”, I jumped from the couch and got on one knee, putting my hands around his shoulders. I watched helplessly as Cyrus twisted and contorted his body, trying to run away from whatever pain was in his head.
Suddenly he fell still.
I studied him for a while, nearly on the verge of tears as his body had become totally limp. Then, a noise. At first it was quiet, then it grew and grew until it filled the room with totality. It’s hard to describe that noise, almost like a wind turbine if you were up close to it.
From behind the couch, just above my sons head, it peeked at me. Its thick, black fingers ended at sharp, nailess points. Just as I met its eyes, it slithered behind the couch and that’s when Cyrus awoke in a screaming fit.
I jumped awake again, Cyrus sitting next to me as pale as a sheet. His eyes were bulging, glued to the blank TV ahead.
I couldn’t help but check behind the couch, to make sure it wasn’t still there. Then, to my son who was still staring at the nothing on the television. His mouth was hanging open, just enough to allow the continuous stream of drool to fall out.
I ran to the kitchen to grab a paper towel and cleaned the odd amount of drool from his chin. There wasn’t a thermometer in the house but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that he was burning up. A fever, I thought.
I carried the boy to his bedroom, feeling as though I was being watched the entire way, and tucked him into bed. A doctors visit would soon be on the horizon. I returned to the couch in the living room, careful to keep my gaze fixed on the TV and nothing else. Truthfully, I was too afraid to look in the shadowy corners.
That night was filled with nightmares.
The next day I rang Jasmine, letting her know that Cy was sick and needed to go to the doctor. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t have been an issue, but Jas was immunocompromised (she’d been diagnosed with breast cancer a few months before we divorced) and my son would be staying with me for the foreseeable future. I couldn’t complain, I didn’t get to see him nearly enough as it was.
That day was very much the opposite of the previous, the sky was gloomy and spits of rain fell consistently from dawn to nightfall.
The doctor had said that Cyrus had a particularly severe ear infection, but nothing that some antibiotics couldn’t fix. He sent us home with a tube of the stuff, my wallet noticeably lighter.
“Apply some of this twice a day, once in the morning and once before bedtime”, the older gentleman had said. He squeezed my shoulder and smiled, though there seemed to be something else behind his wary eyes.
He stopped me again as I turned to leave.
“Sir…”, he started, though he seemed to study his words carefully, “your son kept mentioning something he called the flumes”.
I shrugged, the only time I had heard the word was in reference to a ravine on the edge of town where we’d all smoke pot in high school. Nothing struck me as odd about it at the time.
“They come from the flumes, those noises, those noises, he kept saying”, the doctor pushed closer, his eyes growing wild. I stepped backward, tugging at Cy’s hand as we left the building wordlessly.
Aside from my busy mind, the car ride home was utterly silent. I could hear my boys heavy, labored breaths all the way from the backseat. ‘Inner ear infection, my ass’, I thought.
After laying Cyrus back down for bed, I fixed him a bowl of instant chicken and noodles and decided to give Jasmine a call. The phone rang endlessly before the robotic voice indicated that the caller wasn’t available. I tried once more but gave up after it rang a few more times. Probably sleeping.
I returned to the couch, deciding to rewatch Nightmare on Elm Street for the fourth or fifth time.
After a while, I decided to put on cable, growing tired of the listless titles on Netflix. I was never too interested in the local news, but today seemed as good as any to catch up on the towns happenings. The Grantfield Gators girls softball team had advanced to sectionals and one of the townsfolk were celebrating their 100th birthday.
A ‘Breaking News’ graphic slid below the frazzled newslady on the television. Wherever she was, it sure looked familiar.
‘Wild dog shits on mayors front yard’, I laughed at my own stupid joke and surely turned as white as Cyrus had the previous night as the lady on the TV continued.
“A local woman was found tied to a tree and disemboweled at the scene. Police are saying various symbols were branded all over the womans body, and the material used to bind her to the Elm tree was ‘of unusual property’”, she continued on for a while but I hadn’t noticed, the air had fallen heavy and that familiar warbling had filled the room again.
Heavy footsteps slammed up the staircase at an otherworldly pace. Up the staircase and towards my sons room.
I ran, I swear I ran as fast as I could but I knew… I knew.
When I got to his room, he was gone, the curtains blowing aimlessly in the wind as the window had been slammed open so hard that the glass had shattered in the panes. The bowl of chicken and noodles sat on the bedside table, untouched.
I tried calling Jasmine again and again and again. Still, no answer.
I wanted to write this, to whoever may be reading, so that you know where to look if I don’t return. I know where my son is, I know where Jasmine is.
The flumes took them, or whatever might be lurking in it.