Car wash - clipart

Hey guys
~~~ Purpose ~~~

• I am looking for buddies to set up a mastermind group

~~~ About me ~~~

• 38 y.o.
  
• used to work as a content writer and translator
  
• burned out because of the lack of the good jobs in content writing
  
• moved into washing cars at the car washer in Almaty Kazakhstan.
  
• live in a third-world country
  
• I want to move to Korea and start making the really good money
  
• I have a plan on how I can turn around my life and become rich and happy within 5 years
  
• I have a long-term vision, and I am setting up the "configuration" for my life journey correctly, as opposed to chasing the fleeting wins.
  

~~~ About the purpose of the mastermind group ~~~

• sharing the plans, and performing the accountability reviews and reviews to identify any major flaws before we embark on the next stage
  
• buidling up a basic community to help us stay the course and feel that we aren't going it along
  

~~~ About you ~~~

• you should be dealing with extremely low budgets in your life. If you are from a first-world country like the US, you won't be able to process my numbers correctly. But I plan to move to a first-world country within 2 years - I just need to go through certain steps before I can do this.
• you may be wanting to work the job for 1-2 years so that I can save up the initial investment capital. If you are trying to set up a digital marketing agency with $1000 in your bank account, we won't jibe well. I am planning to set up the investment capital of $5K and move into an ecommerce business model that I have identified.
• you need to be smart and willing to grow and develop. I am reading books on success every day, and I don't have TikTok

Summary of Domestic Violence lies
My gf of 1.5 yr whom I referred to as my wife has lied to police about Domestic violence and had me arrested multiple times and is now throwing my stuff out/ selling it/ destroying it / converting it.
There is no contact order and she filed a restraining order with hearing coming up soon
I had to take a plea deal to get out of jail so how do I sue her if I plead guilty to some fucking lies 😪😪😪
i want to sue her for ruining many incomes I had, emotional turmoil for having another man immediately in my home and bed and making me experience these events, and physical harm from having to live homeless with extreme fibromyalgia pain with no property or access to my finances. I have to prove that she is mentally unwell and how she caused equal if not more damage to the property. She cuts herself since 12 years old and then makes me look like the aggressor when I have to be worried about her and keep checking on her because she’s hurt her self before via pills or cuttingand hitting things in an emotional stupor to the point where her hands are numb and bruised. fetalpositioning in the bathroom for hours for example. She does that so often and puts me in a strange position to where I can’t feel comfortable with her being alone. We could be out doing laundry or grocery shopping and she’s so quick to jump out the car as if I’m threatening her and I’m put in a position where all I want is for her to just get in and we can go home and be calm. She’s fetal positioned in the snow, mid drive and laid there in the snow where any nearby residents can easily call 911 and I’d be getting arrested there for no reason as well. She incomplete called 911 at least 4 times during our relationship. She has zero initiative or perception of building a life. She’s quit jobs for no reason at all, missed days and blamed me for that. She would skip work whenever she felt like and even quit jobs for no reason like Walmart for example. June 20 - August 9 2023 When I went to Dominican Republic for an emergency trip to get help with my fibromyalgia, she felt the need to quit her job then as well with little regard for the financial situation, she had a guy come over then as well at least 3 times. She was going to strip clubs doing who knows what while I was away and aware that she was out to such venues. Upon my arrival, I was forced to lose my crypto investment valued at $4000.00 approximately to keep us from eviction which would now be worth about $15,000.00 and was once valued at over $70,000.00. She had little regard for the things I was doing to build a life. Clearly she was not on a progressing mindset with me. She spoke to me about having my children and marriage because we loved each other whole heartedly but then lies to the state of IN and states what we were simply dating or have dated when we had a very serious, intimate, sexual relationship that I 1000% was intent on creating a life for us. I should have seen the red flags 🚩. I have been taken for granted and my life and liberties are not to be infringed upon like this. She lied to police and now I have a record and have to refund $1000+ from my Etsy business. Not only that but she has all my property meaning I cannot sign into my email and do very basic things such as access to my debit card balance or logging into anything at all . She has access to my personal phone and laptop, and has probably tampered with critical evidence that I need to prove that I am not abusing that woman. She has destroyed some or all of my property by throwing it outside for anyone to steal or whether to destroy. I have at least $4000.00 worth of property in the house that she may or may not have destroyed. A no contact order does not give the “victim” the right to convert / destroy or sell my belongings. If she was so “terrified” of me, she would not have paid over $2000.00 to bail me out when she had me tased and arrested in January 2024. Only to cry wolf again 2 more times in April 2024. I need Justice and I need it Now. You think you’re on the same page as someone, building a life with them, and they disregard your entire life as if it means nothing. She has trauma from her past but putting me in jail and ruining my life was nowhere near necessary. I was saving my money to move into my own place when she got me arrested. I never intentionally hurt her, only restrained her or even self defense after taking more than 10 hits from her. Please help.
List of Suffering
Destruction of property (my lock box was broken into. I found my old ponytail from when I cut my hair in 2013 Junior year in Dominican Republic) Unable to change clothes after jail because I only have one outfit Needlessly tased (heart felt like it was going to stop) Unnecessary U-Haul arrangements Pain from having to sleep on hard, urine, soaked concrete benches while in Marion county booking (26 hours to get me processed on April 19, 2024) Being threatened by inmates (violent offender, said he bite my nose off randomly) About $80 unnecessarily spent on commissary in Marion county ADC jail Neglect of my health (no meds from outside jail, fibromyalgia, pain, 10 out of 10, no glasses for my astigmatism, unable to go to my urology appointment for my suspicious lump, my EBT has been canceled and I am unable to eat freely, not eating well in Marion county, adult detention center(jail) , can’t maintain my Maryland bridge implant (tooth) , hindrance of my disability claim with Atticus, homeless now with no property while in intense pain (was writhing in PAIN at ADC ) Extreme, L5, S1, spine and nerve pain midsection and up to neck and arms April 22 to April 23 if jail footage is available unsanitary conditions, reusing dirty towels, and clothes gave me rashes in Marion county adult detention center jail Stress of losing my valuable possessions Stress of having to focus, my limited energy to battle against Madeline Christine Fenwick, who is a loved, beloved part of me, legal or not. (not anymore obviously) Stress of life, ending life, changing false claims and unjust charges leading to extreme loss of wages, due to improper investigation Lies and slander on my name and record Time wasted Money, wasted, and lost Brain rotting in jail, more than once Disorientation of date and time while in Marion county adult detention center jail Drinking unsafe, water inside Marion county, adult detention center jail Eating and forcing myself to eat disgusting tasteless food in Marion county adult detention center jail Neck pain from uncomfortable sleeping conditions in Marion county adult detention center jail Having to eat other peoples food scraps, inviting unknown bacteria into my body in Marion county, adult detention center jail because they don’t feed you enough Humiliation from having to shower or use bathroom and presence of approximately 60+ men Having to make makeshift tools, such as a basic pen No access to basic Internet Life uprooted for no justifiable reason Extreme boredom, anxiety and resentment, for no justifiable reason well in Marion county, adult detention center jail No money or help from the outside(my only contact was Madeline whom I cannot contact due to unjust NCO) no access to my property or belongings or home via unlawful protection order Cannot take care of my hair inside Marion county Adult Detention Center, jail Having to hoard food and unsafe temperatures only to still go hungry in Marion county, adult detention center jail Had a fight in jail and scraped my elbow pretty bad inviting who knows if the carpet in there has ever been cleaned thoroughly Mouth and oral sanitation. Difficult to maintain in Marion county adult detention center jail No access to my personal business with income hindered unjustly by Madeline Christine Fenwick, while in Marion county adult detention center jail and afterword as I am homeless now Very little sleep well in Marion county adult detention center jail Having to hand wash clothes that is three times my size as that is what I was given in Marion county Adult Detention Center, jail Another man’s bodily fluids on my bed (she already has someone else in my home from her new job)

PSA: It’s HORRIBLE, patchouli dries down to smell like a cheap nasty gas station public restroom! Biggest overhyped product fail! What a farce.
First time testing at a small Sephora store - didn’t seem so awful until the dry down. The dry down was a cheap unpleasant patchouli smell that I needed to wash off.
2nd time testing (wanted to be sure about my review that something wasn’t wrong with me considering all the glowing reviews) - the tester and product was way in the back of the store in a hidden corner. Was surprised they didn’t put the tester out front and center. Bet it’s because they know it’s AWFUL and customers end up returning it.
So I heavily sprayed myself, hopped into my car to drive home and within minutes of sitting in my car, the nasty patchouli fumes made me SOOOO SICK, even rolling down the window didn’t help. The smell made me SOOOO sick and nauseous, I couldn’t even make it home. I had to EMERGENCY pull over to the side of the road as big waves of nausea hit me which had never happened to me before in my life (geez why do I keep getting all these firsts lately after all these years?). I barely made it outside to the side of the road to VOMIT 3x in a row!!!!! Vomited up all the contents in my stomach. Never had a perfume make me this sick before. Mind you, I’m someone who never gets so sick to the point of vomiting. When I tried to get back into the car to drive home, the smell of Kayali still made me feel quite sick and I wasn’t sure I could finish driving home until I remembered I had an old N95 mask in my glove compartment. The only way I could make it home without nausea was to have an N95 mask on while driving.
I needed to take a long shower to make sure the smell was entirely gone from me.
I believe quality control is bad between batches and very cheap ingredients are being used. This is the biggest farcical overhyped rip off ever!!!!
ALL THE ONE ⭐️ REVIEWS on the sephora website are accurate!!!!

I bought a new car last year and in the fall applied a wax, and ceramic spray.
I want to remove all the gunk off the car and reapply the wax and ceramic.
Here’s what I have in mind and would appreciate some feedback on the order

• rinse
  
• iron remover
  
• foam cannon
  
• hand wash (2 buckets)
  
• high pressure rinse
  
• IPA (50/50) spray and hand wipe (while still wet?)
  
• hand dry
  
• wax/ hand buff
  

-ceramic spray
Thanks for the help

I bought a new car last year and in the fall applied a wax, and ceramic spray.
I want to remove all the gunk off the car and reapply the wax and ceramic.
Here’s what I have in mind and would appreciate some feedback on the order

• rinse
  
• iron remover
  
• foam cannon
  
• hand wash (2 buckets)
  
• high pressure rinse
  
• IPA (50/50) spray and hand wipe (while still wet?)
  
• hand dry
  
• wax/ hand buff
  

-ceramic spray
Thanks for the help

I just purchased a 2024 Limited Crosstrek 2 months ago and have only driven 700 miles since. No sunroof, no HK stereo. Just the mirror package.
I was driving slowly (30mph) on flat long road, when two quick "loud taps" sounding like from my roof, happened. I was still driving when maybe 1 minute later, two quick "loud taps" happened again. (Like a crow pecking on my roof, but no birds in the area. Sharp raps.) THEN I hear a 'faint interior sounding" rolling of a nut/screw (something small.)
I pulled over, inspected all inside and out. Shook and yanked various external and internal parts. Hood, roof rack, doors, glove box(es), mirrors, you name it. Found nothing. I could "push gently" on the center cover above the interior rear view mirror, but that's all that could possibly "move" or be loose.
Next day's drive: Small rattle, upwards on interior passenger side on flat roads. However, I haven't been able to rattle it since then. I live in a sunny, warm coastal area in So Cal. Very temperate, no weird weather.
Other hints (?): I had just taken it to an "automatic touchless car wash" a couple of days prior (which is all higher powered jets, but they didn't seem that strong except on lower body) AND I haven't had any dashboard lights come on. The car drives the same, feels the same as "new."
Does anyone have an idea of what this could be - or have you had a similar issue? It's the "rapping" which just kills me. I need the Subaru techs to believe me when I bring this to their attention. Help! Thank you forum!

These are updated key points on the case from the Daily Mail article
Speaking of the autopsy: "The report gave more details on the grisly injuries the teen sustained in the hours before he died"

1. Roquero detailed extensive injuries to the teen's upper body, including 10 broken ribs, serious skull and neck fractures, internal bleeding, and abrasions all over his body.

2.The skin on left side of his scalp was torn off to the bone and a clump of hair and skin was found in the middle of the highway.
3.' Additionally, a clump of hair was observed on the right buttock without blood or tissue,' Roquero wrote.
4.Both his upper and lower teeth were broken 'with few fragments and found inside the mouth' and others strewn across the road several feet from his body.
5.He was bleeding out of his ears and had a cut on his lower lip and one on his tongue.

1. Presgrove's C1, C2, C6, C7 vertebrae were fractured to varying degrees and C1 was displaced - indicating a seriously broken neck.
   
2. There was one extensive skull fracture running across his head, 'splitting the middle base of skull into two', and multiple smaller ones, with police investigators describing his head as being 'caved in'.
   
3. Roquero wrote that there were 'no vehicle parts or debris observed on the scene', indicating Presgrove was almost certainly not hit by a car.
   

9.' He was naked and was only wearing unmatching shoes. There was a pair of shorts found several feet from the decedent and was reported to be his,' Roquero wrote.

1. 'Additionally, there were three pieces of a white metal chain as well as part of a tooth present several feet from the decedent.'
   
2. Roquero noted there was 'a drawing in black ink of a stick-figure person on the side of the right thigh'.
   
3. A video from the Saturday night of the party, on September 2, showed Presgrove's friends drawing their names and other doodles on his back and buttocks.
   
4. He went home and washed some of it off, but is believed to not have been able to get all of the marker off before he went back to the party the next evening.
   
5. The Adidas shoe Presgrove was wearing was his, and the other, a 'Hey Dude' slip-on, was from another party guest who was asleep at the time.
   
6. The shorts he was wearing were undamaged, despite the grazes on his buttocks
   
7. 'Currently, the OHP is not investigating Presgrove's death as a murder,' it said.
   
8. Then he rode an ATV ranger vehicle with several men that had a roll over incident. The decedent was alive following the incident and returned to the party where he got into an argument with his girlfriend,' it read. 'The decedent left the house party and was not found until the morning of September 4, 2023, on the side of the highway.'
   
9. Presgove's best friend Jack Newton, who was at the party but claimed he was asleep when he disappeared, said it was his ATV that was in the accident.
   
10. 'All of all close friends said that he wrecked my SXS I had there around 3,' he wrote in a message to another friend.
    
11. 'And he was super dirty and super drunk so a couple of girls helped him in the shower.' Newton explained this in the same conversation: 'When he got out [of the shower] he wanted to sleep in one of the girls' bed and she [said no and] that upset him and he walked off.'
    
12. One video from the night he died showed some of Presgrove's friends writing their names on his bare buttocks with marker.
    
13. The writing was not still there when his body was discovered in the early hours of the morning but it was not known how and when it was removed.
    

When i checked with the dealer , they says its normal.. i am not very convinced…

• The washer spray makes sunroof and side windows wet with droplets

Wouldn’t have bothered , but if the car is dusty it makes a mess and requires the car to be cleaned and washed…
Do you guys experience this?

An hour after getting back from the Mason apartment, Bruce Kenner had the distinct misfortune of meeting Bertha Henderson.
A plump, gaudy woman with wrinkles and sun beaten skin only an alligator could love, Bertha Henderson wore bright red lipstick, bright red rouge, and way too much mascara. Her tangled hair was a dull red color and her clothes - pink pants and a white floral top - stretched tight across her bulbous frame. She looked like the kind of woman who lived in a trailer with velvet pictures of Elvis on the wall and pink flamingos in the front yard.
She acted like one too.
From the moment she stormed into his office, she hadn’t shut up once. She scolded, chided, accused, and badgered, sometimes even wagging one fat finger in his face like he was a naughty little boy. Ten minutes into the dressing down and Bruce was beginning to fantasize about police brutality.
It took him another ten minutes to find out what the hell she even wanted.
“It’s my granddaughter,” she shot back, “she’s missing in your town.”
My town? Lady, this is barely my office. I share it with three other people.
“Well, if you’ll calm down, maybe I can help.”
Jesus Christ was that the wrong thing to say. She hit the roof and didn’t come down again until Bruce was this close to arresting her for assault on a police officer. “Young man, I do not appreciate the way you’re talking to me. My tax dollars are the only reason you have a job. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be working at a car wash.”
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you.
Bruce took a deep breath and held his tongue in check. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I told you, my granddaughter is missing. If you listened to me, you’d know this already.”
Bertha produced a picture and slid it across the desk. Bruce studied it. A girl, roughly sixteen with black hair, blue eyes, and dimples smiled back at him. “She;’s with that Rossi man, I just know it,” she said bitterly.
“Who?” Bruce asked.
Rolling her eyes like he was stupid, the old woman told him the story. Jessie - the dimple faced girl - had the rotten luck of having to live with Grandma Bertha after her parents went to jail on drug charges. They lived in Sand Lake, a little town in the mountains outside Albany, where Bertha was no doubt loved and admired by all. One day, Jessie, who her grandmother lovingly described as “A little troublemaker”, ran off. Bruce didn’t blame her. He’d known Bertha for half an hour and he wanted to run off. Bertha did some snooping on Jessie’s laptop and found that the “little whore” had been chatting with an older man, Joe Rossi. Rossi, or so Facebook said, lived in Albany and worked at Club Vlad.
“I want him arrested for pedophilia,” Bertha said and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “He’s a dog just like all men. She’s probably pregnant already. Another mouth I have to feed.”
Behind the old battle ax, Vanessa appeared in the doorway and lifted her brows as if to say What a piece of work. Knowing her, she’d probably been standing just out of sight this whole time with McKenny, the elderly evidence clerk, and snickering into her hand like a little girl. LOL she called him young man.
Bertha noticed him looking over her shoulder and started to turn. Vanessa’s face went white and she ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding detection. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Bertha said to Bruce. “Meanwhile, if I don’t get Jessie back, the state’s going to stop sending me my checks. I need that income. I can’t work, you know. I have gout.”
Too bad being an asshole isn’t a job, you’d be world-famous
“I’ll go talk to him,” Bruce said.
“I want more than talk, young man, I want action.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Bertha finally decided to waddle off and ruin someone else’s day, Vanessa came in and sat in the chair the old woman had so recently occupied. “Oh, my God,” she said, “that was intense. I was this close to radioing in a 1015.”
1015 was code for officer down.
“Funny,” Bruce said without a trace of humor. He had kids going missing, a dead guy someone moved around like a goddamn Barbie doll, and now this. What next, hemorrhoids?
“What do you think? Code 1 or code 2?”
Code 1 meant top priority. Code 2 meant not a top priority. Bruce thought for a moment. It didn’t sound like Jessie Henderson was in danger. It sounded like she met a guy - granted, one too old for her - and decided to hide out with him from her psycho grandma. Maybe it could be something more, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t…and his gut feelings were usually right. “2,” he finally said. “I got shit to do.”
By shit, he meant “Talk to the families of those missing boys again.” He’d been interviewing them for two days looking for clues, but there was nothing. It’s like they just vanished. Bruce didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Vanessa said and slapped the desk.
When she was gone, Bruce sighed.
Never a dull moment, he thought.
***
Ed Harris - no relation to the Hollywood actor - had been the medical examiner for the City of Albany since 2002, and in all that time, he had never seen anything quite like this.
It was Wednesday evening and Ed was locked away in the cold, sterile space beneath the city offices that comprised his domain. With its puke green tiles, harsh lights, and cloying smells of disinfectant, the .coroner's office creeped most people out, but not Ed. He was at home here, as comfortable surrounded by toe-tagged bodies as a cactus was surrounded by desert. A thin man in his fifties with curly, steel gray hair thinning in the middle, he wore a white smock, blood stained over his clothes that made him look like a butcher instead of a low level government functionary. He had a dark and dry sense of humor, but then again, so do all people who play with dead bodies for fun and profit.
The coroner’s office was a vast, utilitarian vault segmented into multiple different rooms. Here, where the magic happened, three stainless steel tables stood in a row; a bank of refrigerated drawers kept watch, making sure nothing funny happened. One of the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a hum of electricity, and water dripped rhythmically from a faucet. It was a cold, eerie place, but to Ed, it was home.
On most nights, only one of the tables was occupied, but tonight, two were. On one lay an old lady who died of what appeared to be cyanide poisoning. On the other was Dominick Mason.
Naked save for a white cloth draped over his groin to protect his dignity, Dom was the most corpsy corpse you’d ever hope to see. In fact, if you looked up dead guy in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of him. His body was pale and sunken, one side covered in purple splotches where his blood had pooled, and his eyes were closed. His abdomen was slightly distended with the expected build up of gas, and his flesh stuck fast to the bones beneath. In other words, he was text book. A normal corpse.
Mostly normal.
As men of his trade are wont to do when strange bodies mysteriously appear, Ed had opened Dom up, making a Y shaped incision from his neck to his groin. He hummed to himself as he did so, his hands wielding his sharp and shiny tools with the deft assuredness of a seasoned surgeon. Done cutting, he dipped his gloved hands into the cavity and started removing organs. A spleen here, a liver there, nothing Dom would miss. When he got to the heart, however, he stopped.
There was something…off…about it. At first glance, it was black and withered like an oversized raisin. An odd and putrid odor emanated from it and though he was familiar with the various smells and stenches the human body produced after death, this wasn’t one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t even compare it to anything. Plucking a magnifying glass from the metal cart next to the table, he peeled back part of Dom’s chest and examined the heart closer.
That’s when things got really weird.
Dominick Mason’s heart was, indeed, shriveled, but it was not black. Instead, it was almost entirely covered by an interlacing crisscross of what appeared to be black mold. Here and there, Ed could glimpse flashes of the heart beneath: It was wrinkled and a sickly gray color. “What is this?” Ed asked himself at length. He grabbed a pair of tweezers from the tray and carefully, very carefully, attempted to remove a piece of the mold for analysis. The moment the cold metal tips touched the heart, it gave a violent spasm that sent Ed falling back with a shocked gasp, the tweezers falling from his hand and clinking to the tiled floor.
The heart began to pulse like an alien egg sac, slowly at first, then more rapidly. For a moment, Ed was frozen in place, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Once you die, your heart ceases beating. That’s that. Only living hearts beat, and Dominick Mason was certainly dead. He was dead from the moment Ed first laid eyes on him earlier that day and he was dead now. Yet there was his heart, beating anyway.
It could be a muscle spasm. They usually aren’t that violent and consistent, but dead bodies sometimes do strange things. As he watched the blackened muscle expanding and contracting, however, Ed had the most eerie feeling. He went to rub the back of his neck, realized he was still wearing blood soaked gloves, and stripped them off. He was spooking himself out; he needed a break and a hot cup of coffee. He’d come back fresh and start over again.
With that mold.
Could you really blame him for being creeped out? That stuff wasn’t normal. He’d never seen anything like that before, not even in textbooks. Dom was scrawny and didn’t get enough vitamins in life, but overall, he was healthy; that mold…or whatever it was…had no business being there.
Going over to the coffee pot, which stood in the same room to save travel time, Ed grabbed a styrofoam cup. When he was done here, he planned to go home and -
A terrible, metallic clatter rang out, and Ed jumped. He turned around, and when he saw Dominick Mason standing next to the table, hunched slightly over and staring at him, an electric burst of fright shot up his spine and exploded in his brain, so strong it made the edges turn gray. Pale, hands hooked into talons, and the flaps of his chest hanging open to reveal the cavity beneath, Dominick Mason looked for all the world like a boy who’d been caught sneaking out to meet his girlfriend. A weak, involuntary, “Oh, God,” slipped from Ed’s trembling lips, and the spell was broken. Dom came alive and ran toward the door leading out to the parking lot. He slammed through it, and the sound of it crashing open and then falling closed again echoed through the empty chamber.
Shaking, panting for air, and soaked in piss, Ed sank to the floor in a sitting position, his eyes wide and staring like those of a soldier returning damaged from the front.
It was a long time before he composed himself enough to call the police.
***
Dazed and caught in a nightmarish twilight realm where nothing made sense, Dominick Mason limped painfully down the sidewalk, a stranger lost in a strange land filled with danger and hostile creatures. Barefoot and shrouded in a white sheet, he trembled with cold and struggled to ignore the dark, threatening shapes looming from the fog in his brain, shapes that would turn into unspeakable truths if he let them.
Passersby openly stared at him, their expressions either morbidly curious, disgusted, or alarmed. A man put his arm protectively around his girlfriend; a woman pulled her little boy to her breast, and another man sneered at him, his nose crinkling. Dom, his glazed eyes narrowed against the harsh glare of the many street lamps, headlights, and storefronts, lumbered headlong toward nowhere, his fear growing until he was shambling. He imagined he could hear every cough, every whisper; smell the odor of every unwashed body. Each car horn was deafening, every whiff of ass or armpits sent his stomach churning. The rustle of a passing pedestrian’s jacket jammed into his ears like icepicks, and the approaching globes of LED headlamps burned his eyes. He gritted his teeth and groaned against the pain.
The dense mist wrapping his brain made it hard to think. Like a frightened animal, he made his way on instinct alone. Home. He needed to get home. Out here, on the street, he was exposed. At home, locked away in his small apartment, he would be safe.
A car passed in the street, bass heavy rap music blaring from its open windows, and Dom’s brain exploded with agony. He threw himself against a street sign and held on for dear life, his legs weak. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he almost went down. He was also cold.
So, so cold.
People around him quickened their step; they never took their eyes off him, as though he were a venomous snake that would strike at any moment. He needed to get away from them. They were going to hurt him; people always hurt him.
Pushing away from the sign, he began to hobble once more toward home, wherever home was. He looked over his shoulder several times as he made his way down Central Avenue, and each time, he saw that no one was following him as he had feared.
No one, that is, except for the man in sunglasses.
Tall and lank with curly hair, he wore dark Aviators and a leather motorcycle jacket over a button up shirt. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his face showed no expression. He was always there, always a few steps closer. Outside Capital Fried Chicken, a group of people openly stared at him, He heard their whispers as he passed. What’s wrong with him? Dude’s straight tweakin. And the one that struck him the most. That guy looks dead.
Dom hobbled faster, as if to outrun the realization that he was, in fact, dead. The man in sunglasses was closer now, his footsteps so loud that Dom winced. He turned around, and the man was impossibly in front of him. Dom ran into him and bounced backward, going ass over tea kettle and landing on the former. They were in front of a church on a darkened corner, the lights here either burned out or shot out - you could never tell in Albany. Even though it was dark, Dom could see everything with crystal clarity. Dom tried to scurry away, but he was too weak to escape. Right there and then, he decided to give up. Come what may, he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
The man stared down at him, emotionless, unspeaking.
Dom squirmed.
“You’re real lucky I came along,” the man said. His tone was flat, even.
Dead.
“Get up,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”
Home?
Yes.
Dom wanted to go home.
The man helped him up, and Dom followed him into the night.
***
Bruce Kenner stood in the middle of the medical examiner’s office at half past nine that evening with his hands on his hips and stared doubtfully down at Ed Harris. The lonely cavern was alive with activity as cops went over everything, all of them looking either bemused or a mused. Bruce was neither. He’d been at home, sitting in his chair and having a beer in front of AEW Dynamite when Vanessa called. “You might wanna get down here,” she said, sounding confused, “something really strange is going on.”
Ed Harris - no relation to that one guy - sat in a straight back chair beside his cluttered desk and gripped a styrofoam cup of coffee in both hands, putting Bruce - for some reason - in mind of a monkey. When Bruce came in, the old man was white as a sheet and shook like a leaf. In the last half hour, little had changed.
“Tell me again,” Bruce said.
He and Ed were pretty good friends. He knew that Ed knew standard police procedure. Cops don’t ask you to repeat your story a thousand times over because they’re forgetful fucks, they do it because telling it again and again helps to jog loose details that you might have forgotten. Ed, therefore, did not protest. “I turned my back,” he said and chopped the chair like Jackie Chan, “and I heard the noise.”
His voice was thick, unsteady, and halting. He sounded as squirrely as he looked…and he looked pretty damn squirrelly right now.
“I turned around…and he was looking at me. He was standing there and he was looking at me.”
This was the fourth time he’d had Ed go through the story, and nothing had changed. Bruce felt something stirring deep inside his gut. It was either disquiet…or he had to fart. He opened his mouth to speak, but sighed.
“You don’t believe me,” Ed said.
“I dunno, Ed. Dead bodies don’t just get up and walk away.”
Ed flashed. “I know that, goddamn it, but this one did.”
Bruce glanced at Vanessa. She looked uncomfortable.
“Are you sure he was dead?” Bruce asked.
Ed opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “I did the autopsy.” His voice broke on the last word, and he sounded almost like he was pleading. “His fucking liver’s on the floor. He stepped on it. The man has nothing in him. I-I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s alive.”
During the autopsy, Ed had sat Dominick Mason’s organs on the little tray table where he kept his pointy things. Mason knocked it over while getting up. Indeed, there were human organs on the floor, and one of them did look kind of squished. Bare, bloody footprints led to the exit door, up a set of concrete steps, and then disappeared in the alley behind the office.
“You said you left his heart,” Bruce said.
“And his brain,” Vanessa helpfully added.
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose like a put upon professor dealing with two particularly stupid students. “Even with his heart and his brain, he’s dead. You saw the livor mortis. He was cold, he was stiff. His heart wasn’t beating, he wasn’t breathing. He was in one of those drawers for nine hours, not breathing, no blood flow - it’s impossible. It’s just…it’s impossible. I don’t care what you think, he was dead. And even if somehow he wasn’t, I cut out almost everything. I opened his stomach, I took his spleen - you don’t just get up from that. You don’t walk away from that, much less run.”
Bruce chewed the inside of his bottom lip because he didn’t have a Twix. He didn’t look like the smartest man in the world…and he wasn’t…but he knew a dead body when he saw one, and the body they took out of Dominick Mason’s apartment was D.E.A.D. And like Ed said, even if by some freak fluke of nature he wasn’t, he couldn’t just get up and go about his day with no liver, spleen, or kidneys. Hell, Bruce had his gallbladder out and he couldn’t even walk away from that.
“You said there was something funny about his heart,” Vanessa said.
Ed finished off his coffee. “Yeah. It was…moldy. I-I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Is it possible that…has something to do with it?”
“Unless the rules of biology have changed overnight, no,” Ed stated.
While Ed poured himself another cup of Joe, spilling some because he was still shaking, Vanessa took Bruce aside. “So what do you think?” she asked. “Is he telling the truth?”
For that, Bruce did not have an immediate answer. All else aside, he was a cop. He followed the evidence - and his gut instinct - wherever it led him. Ed was a sober man - he was not a drunk, insane, or stupid - and no man on earth could fake the look of trauma in his eyes. Bruce’s eyes went to the bloody footprints leading away from the exam table and his stomach roiled. It might be cliched, but there had to be a rational explanation. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The kid got up like he said, but there’s no way he was dead. Maybe…I dunno, he had a surge of adrenaline or something. I’m not a doctor.”
“That’ll only get him so far,” Vanessa said. “We’ll probably find him on the street somewhere.”
He went back to the purple splotches on Dom’s face, to his cold stiffness. There’s no way he was dead?
Bruce was confused, and he hated being confused.
“I dunno,” he said, “maybe.”
But he had the gnawing feeling that they wouldn’t. They would never find him…and Bruce would be confused forever.
Goddamn it, Mason, he thought, where are you?

An hour after getting back from the Mason apartment, Bruce Kenner had the distinct misfortune of meeting Bertha Henderson.
A plump, gaudy woman with wrinkles and sun beaten skin only an alligator could love, Bertha Henderson wore bright red lipstick, bright red rouge, and way too much mascara. Her tangled hair was a dull red color and her clothes - pink pants and a white floral top - stretched tight across her bulbous frame. She looked like the kind of woman who lived in a trailer with velvet pictures of Elvis on the wall and pink flamingos in the front yard.
She acted like one too.
From the moment she stormed into his office, she hadn’t shut up once. She scolded, chided, accused, and badgered, sometimes even wagging one fat finger in his face like he was a naughty little boy. Ten minutes into the dressing down and Bruce was beginning to fantasize about police brutality.
It took him another ten minutes to find out what the hell she even wanted.
“It’s my granddaughter,” she shot back, “she’s missing in your town.”
My town? Lady, this is barely my office. I share it with three other people.
“Well, if you’ll calm down, maybe I can help.”
Jesus Christ was that the wrong thing to say. She hit the roof and didn’t come down again until Bruce was this close to arresting her for assault on a police officer. “Young man, I do not appreciate the way you’re talking to me. My tax dollars are the only reason you have a job. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be working at a car wash.”
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you.
Bruce took a deep breath and held his tongue in check. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I told you, my granddaughter is missing. If you listened to me, you’d know this already.”
Bertha produced a picture and slid it across the desk. Bruce studied it. A girl, roughly sixteen with black hair, blue eyes, and dimples smiled back at him. “She;’s with that Rossi man, I just know it,” she said bitterly.
“Who?” Bruce asked.
Rolling her eyes like he was stupid, the old woman told him the story. Jessie - the dimple faced girl - had the rotten luck of having to live with Grandma Bertha after her parents went to jail on drug charges. They lived in Sand Lake, a little town in the mountains outside Albany, where Bertha was no doubt loved and admired by all. One day, Jessie, who her grandmother lovingly described as “A little troublemaker”, ran off. Bruce didn’t blame her. He’d known Bertha for half an hour and he wanted to run off. Bertha did some snooping on Jessie’s laptop and found that the “little whore” had been chatting with an older man, Joe Rossi. Rossi, or so Facebook said, lived in Albany and worked at Club Vlad.
“I want him arrested for pedophilia,” Bertha said and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “He’s a dog just like all men. She’s probably pregnant already. Another mouth I have to feed.”
Behind the old battle ax, Vanessa appeared in the doorway and lifted her brows as if to say What a piece of work. Knowing her, she’d probably been standing just out of sight this whole time with McKenny, the elderly evidence clerk, and snickering into her hand like a little girl. LOL she called him young man.
Bertha noticed him looking over her shoulder and started to turn. Vanessa’s face went white and she ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding detection. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Bertha said to Bruce. “Meanwhile, if I don’t get Jessie back, the state’s going to stop sending me my checks. I need that income. I can’t work, you know. I have gout.”
Too bad being an asshole isn’t a job, you’d be world-famous
“I’ll go talk to him,” Bruce said.
“I want more than talk, young man, I want action.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Bertha finally decided to waddle off and ruin someone else’s day, Vanessa came in and sat in the chair the old woman had so recently occupied. “Oh, my God,” she said, “that was intense. I was this close to radioing in a 1015.”
1015 was code for officer down.
“Funny,” Bruce said without a trace of humor. He had kids going missing, a dead guy someone moved around like a goddamn Barbie doll, and now this. What next, hemorrhoids?
“What do you think? Code 1 or code 2?”
Code 1 meant top priority. Code 2 meant not a top priority. Bruce thought for a moment. It didn’t sound like Jessie Henderson was in danger. It sounded like she met a guy - granted, one too old for her - and decided to hide out with him from her psycho grandma. Maybe it could be something more, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t…and his gut feelings were usually right. “2,” he finally said. “I got shit to do.”
By shit, he meant “Talk to the families of those missing boys again.” He’d been interviewing them for two days looking for clues, but there was nothing. It’s like they just vanished. Bruce didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Vanessa said and slapped the desk.
When she was gone, Bruce sighed.
Never a dull moment, he thought.
***
Ed Harris - no relation to the Hollywood actor - had been the medical examiner for the City of Albany since 2002, and in all that time, he had never seen anything quite like this.
It was Wednesday evening and Ed was locked away in the cold, sterile space beneath the city offices that comprised his domain. With its puke green tiles, harsh lights, and cloying smells of disinfectant, the .coroner's office creeped most people out, but not Ed. He was at home here, as comfortable surrounded by toe-tagged bodies as a cactus was surrounded by desert. A thin man in his fifties with curly, steel gray hair thinning in the middle, he wore a white smock, blood stained over his clothes that made him look like a butcher instead of a low level government functionary. He had a dark and dry sense of humor, but then again, so do all people who play with dead bodies for fun and profit.
The coroner’s office was a vast, utilitarian vault segmented into multiple different rooms. Here, where the magic happened, three stainless steel tables stood in a row; a bank of refrigerated drawers kept watch, making sure nothing funny happened. One of the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a hum of electricity, and water dripped rhythmically from a faucet. It was a cold, eerie place, but to Ed, it was home.
On most nights, only one of the tables was occupied, but tonight, two were. On one lay an old lady who died of what appeared to be cyanide poisoning. On the other was Dominick Mason.
Naked save for a white cloth draped over his groin to protect his dignity, Dom was the most corpsy corpse you’d ever hope to see. In fact, if you looked up dead guy in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of him. His body was pale and sunken, one side covered in purple splotches where his blood had pooled, and his eyes were closed. His abdomen was slightly distended with the expected build up of gas, and his flesh stuck fast to the bones beneath. In other words, he was text book. A normal corpse.
Mostly normal.
As men of his trade are wont to do when strange bodies mysteriously appear, Ed had opened Dom up, making a Y shaped incision from his neck to his groin. He hummed to himself as he did so, his hands wielding his sharp and shiny tools with the deft assuredness of a seasoned surgeon. Done cutting, he dipped his gloved hands into the cavity and started removing organs. A spleen here, a liver there, nothing Dom would miss. When he got to the heart, however, he stopped.
There was something…off…about it. At first glance, it was black and withered like an oversized raisin. An odd and putrid odor emanated from it and though he was familiar with the various smells and stenches the human body produced after death, this wasn’t one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t even compare it to anything. Plucking a magnifying glass from the metal cart next to the table, he peeled back part of Dom’s chest and examined the heart closer.
That’s when things got really weird.
Dominick Mason’s heart was, indeed, shriveled, but it was not black. Instead, it was almost entirely covered by an interlacing crisscross of what appeared to be black mold. Here and there, Ed could glimpse flashes of the heart beneath: It was wrinkled and a sickly gray color. “What is this?” Ed asked himself at length. He grabbed a pair of tweezers from the tray and carefully, very carefully, attempted to remove a piece of the mold for analysis. The moment the cold metal tips touched the heart, it gave a violent spasm that sent Ed falling back with a shocked gasp, the tweezers falling from his hand and clinking to the tiled floor.
The heart began to pulse like an alien egg sac, slowly at first, then more rapidly. For a moment, Ed was frozen in place, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Once you die, your heart ceases beating. That’s that. Only living hearts beat, and Dominick Mason was certainly dead. He was dead from the moment Ed first laid eyes on him earlier that day and he was dead now. Yet there was his heart, beating anyway.
It could be a muscle spasm. They usually aren’t that violent and consistent, but dead bodies sometimes do strange things. As he watched the blackened muscle expanding and contracting, however, Ed had the most eerie feeling. He went to rub the back of his neck, realized he was still wearing blood soaked gloves, and stripped them off. He was spooking himself out; he needed a break and a hot cup of coffee. He’d come back fresh and start over again.
With that mold.
Could you really blame him for being creeped out? That stuff wasn’t normal. He’d never seen anything like that before, not even in textbooks. Dom was scrawny and didn’t get enough vitamins in life, but overall, he was healthy; that mold…or whatever it was…had no business being there.
Going over to the coffee pot, which stood in the same room to save travel time, Ed grabbed a styrofoam cup. When he was done here, he planned to go home and -
A terrible, metallic clatter rang out, and Ed jumped. He turned around, and when he saw Dominick Mason standing next to the table, hunched slightly over and staring at him, an electric burst of fright shot up his spine and exploded in his brain, so strong it made the edges turn gray. Pale, hands hooked into talons, and the flaps of his chest hanging open to reveal the cavity beneath, Dominick Mason looked for all the world like a boy who’d been caught sneaking out to meet his girlfriend. A weak, involuntary, “Oh, God,” slipped from Ed’s trembling lips, and the spell was broken. Dom came alive and ran toward the door leading out to the parking lot. He slammed through it, and the sound of it crashing open and then falling closed again echoed through the empty chamber.
Shaking, panting for air, and soaked in piss, Ed sank to the floor in a sitting position, his eyes wide and staring like those of a soldier returning damaged from the front.
It was a long time before he composed himself enough to call the police.
***
Dazed and caught in a nightmarish twilight realm where nothing made sense, Dominick Mason limped painfully down the sidewalk, a stranger lost in a strange land filled with danger and hostile creatures. Barefoot and shrouded in a white sheet, he trembled with cold and struggled to ignore the dark, threatening shapes looming from the fog in his brain, shapes that would turn into unspeakable truths if he let them.
Passersby openly stared at him, their expressions either morbidly curious, disgusted, or alarmed. A man put his arm protectively around his girlfriend; a woman pulled her little boy to her breast, and another man sneered at him, his nose crinkling. Dom, his glazed eyes narrowed against the harsh glare of the many street lamps, headlights, and storefronts, lumbered headlong toward nowhere, his fear growing until he was shambling. He imagined he could hear every cough, every whisper; smell the odor of every unwashed body. Each car horn was deafening, every whiff of ass or armpits sent his stomach churning. The rustle of a passing pedestrian’s jacket jammed into his ears like icepicks, and the approaching globes of LED headlamps burned his eyes. He gritted his teeth and groaned against the pain.
The dense mist wrapping his brain made it hard to think. Like a frightened animal, he made his way on instinct alone. Home. He needed to get home. Out here, on the street, he was exposed. At home, locked away in his small apartment, he would be safe.
A car passed in the street, bass heavy rap music blaring from its open windows, and Dom’s brain exploded with agony. He threw himself against a street sign and held on for dear life, his legs weak. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he almost went down. He was also cold.
So, so cold.
People around him quickened their step; they never took their eyes off him, as though he were a venomous snake that would strike at any moment. He needed to get away from them. They were going to hurt him; people always hurt him.
Pushing away from the sign, he began to hobble once more toward home, wherever home was. He looked over his shoulder several times as he made his way down Central Avenue, and each time, he saw that no one was following him as he had feared.
No one, that is, except for the man in sunglasses.
Tall and lank with curly hair, he wore dark Aviators and a leather motorcycle jacket over a button up shirt. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his face showed no expression. He was always there, always a few steps closer. Outside Capital Fried Chicken, a group of people openly stared at him, He heard their whispers as he passed. What’s wrong with him? Dude’s straight tweakin. And the one that struck him the most. That guy looks dead.
Dom hobbled faster, as if to outrun the realization that he was, in fact, dead. The man in sunglasses was closer now, his footsteps so loud that Dom winced. He turned around, and the man was impossibly in front of him. Dom ran into him and bounced backward, going ass over tea kettle and landing on the former. They were in front of a church on a darkened corner, the lights here either burned out or shot out - you could never tell in Albany. Even though it was dark, Dom could see everything with crystal clarity. Dom tried to scurry away, but he was too weak to escape. Right there and then, he decided to give up. Come what may, he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
The man stared down at him, emotionless, unspeaking.
Dom squirmed.
“You’re real lucky I came along,” the man said. His tone was flat, even.
Dead.
“Get up,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”
Home?
Yes.
Dom wanted to go home.
The man helped him up, and Dom followed him into the night.
***
Bruce Kenner stood in the middle of the medical examiner’s office at half past nine that evening with his hands on his hips and stared doubtfully down at Ed Harris. The lonely cavern was alive with activity as cops went over everything, all of them looking either bemused or a mused. Bruce was neither. He’d been at home, sitting in his chair and having a beer in front of AEW Dynamite when Vanessa called. “You might wanna get down here,” she said, sounding confused, “something really strange is going on.”
Ed Harris - no relation to that one guy - sat in a straight back chair beside his cluttered desk and gripped a styrofoam cup of coffee in both hands, putting Bruce - for some reason - in mind of a monkey. When Bruce came in, the old man was white as a sheet and shook like a leaf. In the last half hour, little had changed.
“Tell me again,” Bruce said.
He and Ed were pretty good friends. He knew that Ed knew standard police procedure. Cops don’t ask you to repeat your story a thousand times over because they’re forgetful fucks, they do it because telling it again and again helps to jog loose details that you might have forgotten. Ed, therefore, did not protest. “I turned my back,” he said and chopped the chair like Jackie Chan, “and I heard the noise.”
His voice was thick, unsteady, and halting. He sounded as squirrely as he looked…and he looked pretty damn squirrelly right now.
“I turned around…and he was looking at me. He was standing there and he was looking at me.”
This was the fourth time he’d had Ed go through the story, and nothing had changed. Bruce felt something stirring deep inside his gut. It was either disquiet…or he had to fart. He opened his mouth to speak, but sighed.
“You don’t believe me,” Ed said.
“I dunno, Ed. Dead bodies don’t just get up and walk away.”
Ed flashed. “I know that, goddamn it, but this one did.”
Bruce glanced at Vanessa. She looked uncomfortable.
“Are you sure he was dead?” Bruce asked.
Ed opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “I did the autopsy.” His voice broke on the last word, and he sounded almost like he was pleading. “His fucking liver’s on the floor. He stepped on it. The man has nothing in him. I-I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s alive.”
During the autopsy, Ed had sat Dominick Mason’s organs on the little tray table where he kept his pointy things. Mason knocked it over while getting up. Indeed, there were human organs on the floor, and one of them did look kind of squished. Bare, bloody footprints led to the exit door, up a set of concrete steps, and then disappeared in the alley behind the office.
“You said you left his heart,” Bruce said.
“And his brain,” Vanessa helpfully added.
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose like a put upon professor dealing with two particularly stupid students. “Even with his heart and his brain, he’s dead. You saw the livor mortis. He was cold, he was stiff. His heart wasn’t beating, he wasn’t breathing. He was in one of those drawers for nine hours, not breathing, no blood flow - it’s impossible. It’s just…it’s impossible. I don’t care what you think, he was dead. And even if somehow he wasn’t, I cut out almost everything. I opened his stomach, I took his spleen - you don’t just get up from that. You don’t walk away from that, much less run.”
Bruce chewed the inside of his bottom lip because he didn’t have a Twix. He didn’t look like the smartest man in the world…and he wasn’t…but he knew a dead body when he saw one, and the body they took out of Dominick Mason’s apartment was D.E.A.D. And like Ed said, even if by some freak fluke of nature he wasn’t, he couldn’t just get up and go about his day with no liver, spleen, or kidneys. Hell, Bruce had his gallbladder out and he couldn’t even walk away from that.
“You said there was something funny about his heart,” Vanessa said.
Ed finished off his coffee. “Yeah. It was…moldy. I-I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Is it possible that…has something to do with it?”
“Unless the rules of biology have changed overnight, no,” Ed stated.
While Ed poured himself another cup of Joe, spilling some because he was still shaking, Vanessa took Bruce aside. “So what do you think?” she asked. “Is he telling the truth?”
For that, Bruce did not have an immediate answer. All else aside, he was a cop. He followed the evidence - and his gut instinct - wherever it led him. Ed was a sober man - he was not a drunk, insane, or stupid - and no man on earth could fake the look of trauma in his eyes. Bruce’s eyes went to the bloody footprints leading away from the exam table and his stomach roiled. It might be cliched, but there had to be a rational explanation. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The kid got up like he said, but there’s no way he was dead. Maybe…I dunno, he had a surge of adrenaline or something. I’m not a doctor.”
“That’ll only get him so far,” Vanessa said. “We’ll probably find him on the street somewhere.”
He went back to the purple splotches on Dom’s face, to his cold stiffness. There’s no way he was dead?
Bruce was confused, and he hated being confused.
“I dunno,” he said, “maybe.”
But he had the gnawing feeling that they wouldn’t. They would never find him…and Bruce would be confused forever.
Goddamn it, Mason, he thought, where are you?

If anyone is interested - I wrote a trip report from a recent trip a buddy and I did earlier this week. I highly recommend this trip if you’re in the area, it was well worth the 4 hour drive for us.
A co-worker and I from an outfitter down in Southeast PA decided to plan a trip to Ansonia, PA to Paddle Pine Creek. We planned the trip mostly out of the Keystone Canoeing book by Edward Gertler and information on the PA DCNR website. We originally planned to do a 2 night, 3 day trip. Pine Creek runs through a beautiful section of PA’s Grand Canyon, and is known for its beautiful views, good water, and amazing trout fishing. We met at our local outfitter at 6am to pick up our boats and get in the same car. By 6:30 we had our boats strapped down and our gear loaded and we hit the road. We stopped at wawa for sizzlis, energy drinks, nerd gummy clusters, and jolly ranchers which would serve as our road trip sustenance (we decided to eat super healthy this trip ;)). We had a 4 hour drive ahead of us which actually took a little bit longer since we stopped about halfway through for gas and a shit break. Aphex twin was the soundtrack of this road trip. At about 11am we rolled into the parking lot of Pine Creek Outfitters (PCO). Inside we were met with very helpful and knowledgeable staff, we also purchased a map there which ended up being super helpful as the maps we had from Keystone Canoeing weren't quite as detailed. The employees at PCO said the creek is pretty self explanatory but there's only one section we should be worried about which was Owassee rapid, they told us to just keep left and hug the bank. PCO directed us to a public canoe access no more than a quarter mile down the road where we would start our trip. We were on the water by noon and the views were not great at this point, as there was a large overcast and we were not quite in the depths of the . We had a quick flat paddle for about a mile or two until the water got going, and at about 12:30 we stopped to check the map. At this point we knew Owassee was coming up and we wanted to make sure we weren't surprised by it. The map noted that Owassee was preceded by a cabin with notable arches which we passed probably around 12:45. We pulled off towards the right side of the island at Owassee as PCO noted that the left side is known to have some killer strainers. We scouted Owassee for the next 15 minutes or so and crapped our pants. We were super nervous, this was the biggest water that either of us had run in a canoe before, let alone with all of our camping gear in our boat. The most daunting section of Owassee was a set of massive boulders to the right side of the channel which all of the water pushes you towards. Immediately following Owassee is a massive set of wave trains that I would (totally unprofessionally) eyeball to be 3-4 foot standing waves. Immediately preceding Owassee are a couple of flat boulders which are hard to see from the water so we were happy to scout and get a good look at it. I’d guess that at this water level Owassee was easily a Class 2+ or 3. We decided to take a line which stayed left pretty much the entire way until the big wave trains following Owassee where we could cut over to the right. At this point we headed back up to our boats to run it. It was a little sketchy, but not as bad as we thought it would be, a couple back paddles and keeping your bow pointed toward the island and you will be okay. The wave trains following Owassee were a little hectic, and we ended up taking on some water, especially me in my Heavy Old Town Discovery 168. We pulled off to the right after the Wave Trains to bail our boats and have a celebratory Miller Lite and Croissant (godly combo). We were in front of this awesome cabin called “Tiadaghton Lodge”, the cabin had a sweet foot bridge that crossed the river to allow for access to the cabin from the rail trail. At this point the sun had come out and we were officially in the heart of the PA Grand Canyon, the views were spectacular and it was just an overall phenomenal day outside. Once we were back on the water, we were super pleased with the flow. It was consistent Class 1’s with sprinkled Class 2’s pretty much for the rest of the day, it was a super enjoyable paddle and a pleasant challenge from the barely Class 1 water we were used to. We were now in the heart of the canyon and the views were just breathtaking, the vast canyon extending on either side of the creek really makes you feel small, and it was insane to think that this wildly different terrain was still in PA. The canyon was lined with awesome waterfalls that were really pleasing to see and hear along the way. Around probably 2 or 3 we stopped for a bathroom break and lunch. Up to this point we had only seen about 4 other people and none of them were on the river, 2 were riding horses and the rest were just hikers along the rail trail. By around 4pm we took a smaller channell to the right side of an island which turned out to be a good choice as we found an awesome little campsite here. We finished up clocking about 10 miles that day. There were two fire rings and a weird but cool table made by balancing a rock on top of a cut down tree stump, pretty cool. We spent the next hour or so setting up camp and then we relaxed in our hammocks until around 6 when we decided to make a fire and get dinner started. We struggled with starting a fire because of the rain that morning and the day before, but we got it started just enough to cook our food. I made Bombay Potatoes with Rice and some canned chicken and Owen (My coworker) made turkey sausages and canned tamales. We also made some warm fresh bread with some dough I had made when we got to camp. After eating we went into a food coma for a little until we decided to really make the fire big. We got it going probably for about an hour when we finished off all the miller lites we had brought. At this point we went to bed. I slept super well and was definitely warm enough despite only having a 50 degree bag, which is something I was worried about. I’m used to hammock camping, so having a tent was a super nice luxury to have. We woke up at about 7 or 8 am and took our morning nice and easy. We had planned to do an easy 15 miles this day and camp out at a campground in Cedar Run where we would try and figure out a ride back to our car. We took it easy, and ate instant oatmeal, scrambled eggs, and bacon spam along with instant coffee. It was an awesome breakfast although I could almost feel the heart attack from the spam. I definitely recommend Starbucks Via instant blonde roast for anyone looking for a good camping coffee option. I've been loving it so far, especially given that it's instant coffee. After breakfast we chilled in our hammocks by the water for about 15 minutes before we packed up camp and were back on the water by 10am. It was another beautiful day, atleast to start and the views were still just as stellar in the heart of the gorge. We had another nice stretch of river to start. We passed an awesome waterfall which I can’t remember the name of almost right after we left camp. We pulled over at about 11am to pee, make coffee and filter some more water. We pulled off next to this awesome waterfall that I used to wash some of my dishes from earlier and collect water that I could filter later on. We paddled for another 30 minutes or so until we saw a bald eagle chilling in a tree overhanging the creek. We stopped paddling and took out our phones to get some awesome videos of it. The eagle took off and flew around us and then up river with the crows in tail. It was an awesome experience. At this point the water chilled out for the most part, besides one more notable rapid called thread the needle, it was a super fun little bend and reminded me of a rapid back home. About an hour after this, the overcast came back and the wind really started to pick up. At this point the grand views from the gorge really seem to chill out as we started to enter civilization again. We passed the town of Blackwell and a nice little campground on our left side, there was a nice little canoe access there with some people hanging out and fishing. This would have been a good spot to end the trip if you just wanted to see the gorge. After Blackwell we passed Rattlesnake Rock where we saw some Mennonites hanging out and we asked them for some of the lore on the rock. They said that it was named by loggers back in the day when they found a ton of Rattlesnakes on it. The rest of the way was pretty mediocre water and we really ended up fighting the wind. We also passed a kayaker here who said that slate run (where we planned to get out) was only about an hour away. He ended up being wrong as it was about two hours but we paddled on, deciding to end the trip a day early and drive home that night. There were two more notable rapids before getting to slate run, one which must've been a Class 3 was notable due to the MASSIVE wave trains and a huge boulder hidden behind a standing wave, it must’ve been 4 foot standing waves we paddled through. The second was right before slate run, right next to a campground. Massive wave trains which swept you towards these massive undercut rocks which were super sketchy. These rapids were fairly easy to navigate as you can kind of avoid them altogether and were most likely larger than usual due to the rain the days before. We pulled into Slate Run at about 2pm. A local informed us that Slate Run is one of the best spots for trout fishing in the entire country, there was even a hotel basically just for trout fishermen across the creek from the We had no plan for a ride back to our care so we talked to some people at the Slate Run access asking for a ride. We also went up to the general store to ask some employees there. We got ice cream which was fantastic and then called PCO for a ride back. They weren't too happy with us as they usually require a reservation for their shuttle service and were getting ready to head home for the day, but they nonetheless gave us a ride. We made some coffee and instant ramen while waiting for the shuttle to arrive. Our shuttle driver was super nice and helpful and even took us the long way back to show us this cute little town of Wellsboro. She even offered us jobs in exchange for cheap NRS gear after seeing how easily we threw our boats around. She also showed us the way to get to an awesome lookout over the whole canyon. Overall I highly recommend PCO for any trips and if we ever come back will definitely be using them again, awesome people. After getting the car and boats loaded up, we headed up the canyon to checkout the canyon from the top. It was breathtaking, and a super cool and different perspective from what we saw from the water. After leaving the overlook we headed home. Stopping at Mcdonalds for some food along the way, and we rolled into the parking lot at about 11pm. Overall this was an awesome trip and highly recommended for anyone looking for awesome water, amazing views, or great camping. We will definitely be coming back.

Throwaway for anonymity. On mobile.
My wife and I are in a little bit of a predicament and we don't know how to navigate this situation. Our oldest son (age 4) attends a preschool, where he has a blast. This school is absolutely amazing and he is absolutely thriving there. He is a very affectionate boy - he loves snuggling, hugs, etc. This will be relevant. Lately we've noticed that whenever he spends an extensive amount of time with a classroom assistant, K (20s), he comes home smelling RANK. Like, drive home from picking him up with the windows down, give him a bath as soon as he gets home. It smells like he's a little boy with grown-man BO. Usually we're just managing it, but ... Well, it's starting to stick around. We wash his car seat, we have air fresheners, etc.
Summer is coming. It's getting hot. I'm worried it's going to get worse.
I brought up the idea to my wife of emailing his teacher and delicately describing the problem. My wife thinks I WBTA if I did that. But I just can't with the smell anymore - and neither can she. My wife is a very gentle-hearted person and felt so much secondhand embarrassment for K over this, but it's getting to be a lot doing extra laundry and baths when K comes in and hangs out with our boy. WIBTA if I very gently emailed the teacher about this?

Monday is the first day of the work week that many people dread. Not all people dread it, but some. Let's take a look into the Numerology of Monday to decode the energy and what it can be used for to work with it and not against it.
M - this is the 13th letter of the alphabet vibrating at the energy of 4. The energy of 1 is action and the energy of 3 is connecting with others through collaboration. This puts a focus on responsibilities and for most people, it's a work or school day which connects with this. Although it is about being responsible, it's still the energy of 4 which is mellow and controlled energy. O - this is the 15th letter of the alphabet vibrating at the energy of 6 which is about using your creativity constructively to take care of the tasks or duties you need to take care of. 6 is the number of beauty, duty, and routine. N - 14th letter of the alphabet vibrating at the energy of 5. This is about using your energy to be responsible and making space for enjoyment while doing so. 14 is a karmic number, but not when used correctly. As a karmic number, 14 is about someone who ditched their responsibilities and now have to deal with some challeneges(5). Proper use of this energy is using it for creative purposes. D - 4th letter vibrating at the purest energy of 4 which is about calmness, caution, and security. A - vibrating at 1 as the first letter of the alphabet, this is about action and energy. Y - The 25th letter of the alphabet vibrating at the energy of 7, but through cooperation with others(2) and compassion for others(2) and with the use of creativity (5) or even humor(5). Big lover energy as 5 can point to romance and 2 can point to soulmates.
Monday full numerology comes down to 8 and 8 can represent long and drawn out processes, wait times, and pressure. The dreadful energy can be moreso due to this 8 energy. People can work with this energy by being patient as 8 points to tedious tasks. With this insight, you can now simply start expected a little time in between things and pacing yourself. It can seem like a long day or your duties may be plentiful.
This is a day best utilized in a constructive (8) way with the use of wisdom and calculation(7). The 7 is the soul urge influence of Monday based on the vowels. 2 vowels A and O which equals 7. Being calculating and seeking depth will allow you to master the energy of Monday. Use this day to get the most done with your projects or workloads.
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Hi, I recently got an e46 and it's very dirty underneath, it didn't have any protective covers underneath, and also probably wasn't ever washed.
How can I wash the underside without damaging electronics? I was thinking those automated car washes but since I don't have the protective cover underneath the engine, water might go on the electronics (alternator and its positive cable for example).
I was also thinking about getting said cover but the engine is also dirty and I'd like to clean it aswell :D
Thank you in advance!

My original post: My New Job Is Hell because of OCD: Plus a bonus rant
I didn't intend to create a series, but I have no other ideas of how to title my posts. The original post is an angry rant and part 2 will be similar because I have no outlet to voice my frustration.
I thought that I would add "Part 2" to the OCD Journal after receiving an invite.
In my original post - the now official Part 1 - I mentioned that I started working for a retailer fulfilling online orders. So customers can buy their groceries online and pick them up in person.
My latest "crisis" involves the fear of contamination and illness/death.
The other day there was an accident when a coworker helped me carry out a large order to the customer's car.
Most of the time, one person can carry out an order, but once in a while a customer will order so much stuff that it can take two people to bring it outside.
My coworker was pulling the biggest chunk of the order - a cart containing ten totes as two stacks of five - while I pulled the smaller chunk on a separate cart.
To give you an idea of the height for a stack of 5, the top of the tote comes somewhere at my head or forehead. For your reference, I'm 5 feet 9 inches (175 cm for our Euro buddies).
After we arrived to the customer's car and greeted ourselves, my coworker, who was still controlling the larger cart, pushed it forward to get in better loading position. But upon doing so, the cart hit a bump or a crack that caused the front stack to fall off and crash.
At first it seemed fine. Nothing looked broken and we proceeded to load the customer's car while checking items for damage as we loaded.
But after a few minutes my coworker says "hold this," and upon turning around I see that he's holding a broken plastic egg carton that was still leaking raw egg even through its extra plastic bag (the same bag that you put raw meat containers in to protect against leaks).
I had to bring the gooey bag and leaky carton back to the staging area and then retrieved the replacement. I had no time to wash my hands so I used the clean hand to bring out the fresh eggs and then used my one clean hand to awkwardly finish loading the groceries.
However, I realized immediately that my coworker probably had raw egg on his hand(s) while he finished loading the groceries. And to make it worse, he also had borrowed my scanner. So in my mind I was immediately apprehensive that things weren't clean.
I took my scanner inside and set if off to the side on some random shelf in the warehouse. Then I walked to the break room, checking my surroundings for any Clorox wipes on the way, and washed my hands.
Over the course of my shift, I kept looking for wipes or thinking of how to get some, while also hoping no one touched the contaminated scanner. I really wanted to disinfect the scanner because of my fear that it would cross contaminate everything else.
I eventually remembered that the front of the store had wipes for customers to use on their carts. However, I kept forgetting to get them and eventually forgot completely before I left work.
To my horror today, that scanner wasn't in the same location, which meant it got placed back with all the others. I stupidly just left it an easily accessible area so someone easily found it.
So today I felt guilty because of the contamination and the catastrophizing about the result of the contamination.
Because contaminated scanner > contaminates other scanners and tools > workers touching those tools and cross contaminating other tools and totes > workers contaminating other groceries that they pick for customers > customers receiving contaminated groceries and dying.
There's a part of me that ironically doesn't feel much fear because it's probably far fetched that every item would receive the same level of contamination. At the same time, I still hate that I couldn't have cleaned that scanner, even though I'm not sure if those wipes actually disinfect that well.
Still, throughout work today I kept sneaking away to retrieve those disinfecting wipes so that I could disinfect my own scanner at least for that day. I feel as though I have to assume that every scanner is contaminated now.
Part of me wishes that I would've just told someone not to touch the scanner until I had a chance to clean it.
But I was too embarrassed. I also feel pissed off at my coworker for contaminating the scanner and I feel that he should've cleaned it on my behalf even though I'm aware that non-OCD sufferers don't have the same qualms about germs.
At the same time, I also feel that one doesn't need to have OCD to have concern about contamination, which makes me feel afraid that maybe this was a real concern.
I'm also aware that before I even started working there, there must have been worse accidents in the past that contaminated those same tools and totes. So I probably already came into contact with contaminated items without realizing it. But because this accident happened while I was there, I feel responsible for containing the damage.
I tried ignoring the intrusive thoughts.
Before one of my sessions picking items today, I forgot to grab wipes for my scanner. I was already out on the floor and didn't feel like going to the front of the store to retrieve the wipes, so I just started to pick items without disinfecting my scanner.
However, when I was picking the items I kept thinking about how maybe my hands had salmonella on them and that I could be spreading those germs on the customer's items.
For my last session picking I retrieved the wipes even though it's probably moot and I'm not sure I can do that forever.
This situation has got me feeling upset, scared, numb, insane, guilty, exasperated, hopeless, and perplexed.
I'm upset that I have this illness. I'm upset that my coworker knocked over those totes and contaminated my scanner. I'm upset that they put me into a terrible OCD dilemma. I'm upset that I am again dealing with work related obsessions (I left a previous job mostly due to OCD).
I'm scared of someone dying due to the contamination which then causes me to get arrested.
I'm numb because I'm tired of being responsible for everything which makes me want to shut down so that I don't have to feel negative emotions. I'm also tired from the burden carrying them all the time.
I'm insane because I feel like the only person around living in this OCD world.
I feel guilty about contaminating the environment at work that could get someone killed.
I'm exasperated that OCD ruins everything.
I feel hopeless because I don't know if I can ever feel normal again.
I'm perplexed that OCD destroys and ruins life so easily.

This may not be the most eloquent of posts but I’m trying to cram a bunch of info in so there’s a fuller picture. I’m more than happy to clarify or add more detail if necessary. Just at the end of my wits with this damn screaming. He turned 4 in March. No diagnosed behavioral or developmental issues. Could be autistic, but it would be more along the lines of what was formerly called Asperger’s. His dad is diagnosed and it’s suspected that his grandpa and great grandpa on dads side were undiagnosed. What’s strange about this is he is actually noise sensitive! The washing machine, blender, and sometimes vacuum bothers him. Emergency sirens bother him if they’re too close. He will frequently cover his ears. Except for when he is himself approaching glass shattering decibels.
Types of screams:
•because he’s mad and doesn’t want to calm down. I sat with him in his room Monday for almost 30 minutes. We were taking a break because he had thrown a stool at me twice because he was angry. If we tried to engage, he screamed. If we stayed in the room, he screamed for us to leave. If we left, he would scream until we came back. When I sat on his bed and told him I will just sit here quietly until he’s ready, he screamed. Not even at me. He completely turned away from me and kept tantruming for 10 more minutes then just stopped and was ready to talk about what he was feeling and what he wanted to do to make his “big sad” smaller. 2 minutes of that activity and he was fine.
•in the car. He can be playing and jabbering to himself then screech. We tried a scream box and he gives zero fks about it. He’s more interested in throwing it at us so it didn’t last long. He will also scream when my husband and I are trying to talk to each other and only stops when one of us engages him. We usually tell him that we have to talk to each other and we will talk to him when we’re done. Trying to empathize with him wanting to talk to us and having to be patient only triggers him to scream he doesn’t want to be patient and he’s completely hijacked the car ride because we are either dealing with his meltdown or not talking to each other while he plays and jabbers in the back because we just don’t want to be yelled at.
•Just a sudden screams. Playing with his toys, laughing, running around, he will just screech. Todays example is I was watching a funny video with him on my phone and was trying to send it to his dad. Before I could even hit send, he screams. You know, that scream where if it was a cartoon, you could see his tonsils wiggling. It’s 10 minutes later and the ear he was next to is still ringing and feels muted.
He starts regular school in August and my teacher friends have ASSURED me he will be fine because “kids are always different in school than home” and we haven’t had screaming issues at preschool, but I don’t want to send him to full time school and he’s partly feral because he would rather scream than respond in a quieter voice or just communicate the need instead of screeching at the first discomfort.
Not to mention my fight or flight response that is triggered when I’m laying in my bed and he comes in not jacked up then screams in my ear or the panic in the car as I’m driving because a kid is suddenly screaming and I can’t figure out if there’s an actual problem.
I’ve tried telling him is he needs to scream, he needs to go outside, to his room, or to his closet. I explained that when I’m so angry I want to scream I go in my closet and scream. He doesn’t want that (probably because it’s what’s being asked of him and he has an oppositional streak). I’ve tried loops, I have construction ear protection, but I cannot wear these 100% of the time because they eventually make my ears sore so I try to wear them in the “most likely to be screamed” zones, but again, held hostage because nowhere appears to be safe because his screaming is just whenever tf he wants while he’s awake.
He really is a great, funny, frequently empathetic kid, but this screaming is wearing us parents down because we cannot find a solution and we are being constantly startled, sometimes to tears because it is so sudden and shrill.

Hey, guys! I'm getting top surgery in a little over 3 weeks and I'm trying to make sure I set myself up for the best recovery possible. I have a list of stuff that I already plan to do, but I feel like there is more that I could do that I haven't thought of. I'll have a couple caretakers for the first couple weeks at least so I shouldn't have to worry too much about mobility plans. This is what I've got so far (in no particular order):

• Schedule pre-op and post-op appointments with my counselor
• Haircut
• Shave the day before
• Full tank of gas in my car
• Clean my room/wash bedding/do all laundry
• Move everything I need to a reachable height
• Get groceries (recovery friendly foods, low in sodium, high in protein - if you guys have any food/recipe recs lmk!)

I'm barely 19 and I've lived in fucking squalor my entire life. I've slept with my head next to a patch of mould since I was 4. My 10 year old little sister doesn't even know what normal looks like. She thinks a house coated in mould with shit both figurative and actual all over the fucking place and insects everywhere is just normal. Spiders are everywhere. Flies are everywhere. We have fucking mould mites literally infesting our kitchen the last 3 days and my dad doesn't give a fuck. "It doesn't seem like I can get rid of them unless I clean the whole house" then clean the whole fucking house you useless prick. He's not even trying. I google everu solution I can and tell him and he ignores every single one and shoots me down with an excuse. My mum died last month and she was only 44. We had a bad relationship and never would have fixed it. Whatever. My feelings on that don't matter rn. What does matter is that she used to pressure him to do shit at least. She couldn't because she was bedbound and disabled. And now I hav eto be the fucking bad guy. I have to scream at him to take action while he treats me like the most irrational person in the world for asking him to stop me from having to live like this. I'm at fucking college 5 days a week. I come home. I do my homework. I revise. I cook dinner at least half the nights a week. I work one day a week and get just under £70 for it. I can do fuck all about anything. I go to uni in September but when I leave like a selfish cunt my baby sister still has to fucking live in this filth and I'm just leaving her with no maternal figure in an absolute shithole with a dad who couldn't care less about anything. When I think about her I feel sick with anger and guilt and frustration that I'm failing her but there's nothing more I can even fucking do. I feel sick knowing she's going to grow up like this. She can't even write and she's 10 because she's been "homeschooled" without anyone actually teaching her. He's finally considering putting her into school but only because my mum died and he'll have to go back to work. She's 5 years behind anyway now.
Our microwave has been broken for 2 years. Our kettle is so encrusted with limescale that I can't pour the bottom 200ml or so without having to make a whole new drink because I get limescale in my cup. Half of our toaster functions and even then it doesn't function correctly - it burns everything so you have to watch it and stop it yourself and the cancel button only works 1/3 of the time regardless. Our clothes dryer hasn't worked for a year. Our toilet hasn't flushed in longer - I have to pour buckets of water down it every time. For once we have the money and means to replace all of it but he won't. I had to clean our cupboards of food that went out of date over 5 years ago the other day while he complained we had no space in ghe cupboards. He lets old food sit in our fridge until it moulds if I don't catch it first and throw it away, but I'm rarely even home if I can help it. I can't count ghe amount of times our fridge has actually had blue mould pooling at the bottom of it and I just have to eat food from it anyway because what can I do?
I want to go see my psychology teacher and just cry and cry and cry and tell him everything. I've wanted to cry to a teacher since I was old enough to understand how messed up my situation is and never have. Because my parents used the "social services will come and take you away and split you up and you'll never see each other again" line my whole childhood whenever I misbehaved. The thing is if I did tell a teacher that's a real possibility. I like to think it'd be better for my sister in the long run but I don't know right now. Her mum just died before she even turned 10. If she gets taken away from her dad I'm so scared it'll do her even more damage. She's just a fucking baby. She's my fucking baby. I was 9 when she was born and my parents gave so little of a fuck that I had way too mucj responsibility for a 9 year old in raising that child. She's my sister but I feel more maternal towards her than anything. She's my sister my baby my little buddy she gives me fist bumps and high fives and gives me heart symbols with her hands and I have ti watch her clamber over all the shit in our house and beg our dad to make her even a fucking sandwich for lunch instead of leaving her to fend for herself. I'm not even around at lunch time because I'm at college or work most of the time so I can't even fucking help her. I just have to hope my brother will, and usually he does. But he's got his own shit going on too. I take her on walks when I can just to get her away from it all but that's not often. She asks me about when I go to uni every day and I know she's petrified. My mum told me before she died that she would ask her how long it'd be until I leave every night and talk about all the stuff she wanted to do with me before I move away. And I really am moving away. 4 hours minimum by car - my dad would never drive her and I can't drive either.
I want to tell my teacher but I can't tell anyone because it always makes me look filthy. I tell someone I live in filth and that immediately reflects on me. I scrub and scrub and scrub at my body and wash my own clothes and keep all my shit as clean as possible. I douse myself in all the perfume and deodorant I can just in case I carry some kind of scent around with me. But it doesn't even matter because people will immediately see me as dirty anyway. I feel dirty. I feel contaminated. I have to check my skin for mould mites the past few days because I'm so freaked out by living amongst them. It's triggering hallucinations I used to have all over again. Feeling bugs crawling all over me all the time and seeing bugs that aren't there. I've started praying again lately. I hate the religion I left. It ruined my life. And I hate that it was indoctrinated into me sl much that when I'm desperate I still pray on the off chance it'll work one day because there's nothing else to do. But god is like my fucking dad because he never listens and doesn't give a fuck about me I guess. So edgy of me to say that lmao. No offense to religious people just... The religion I was in.
I don't even know what to say here because it's all fucking incoherent and there's so much I could say. My cat might be dying too. He's my baby too. We got him when I was 5 and I don't remember a time without him. I cried into his fur instead of crying with my parents when shit went wrong because they never gave a fuck. And now he might die too. I've lost two grandparents, my mum, and maybe my pet in the space of about 6 months.
Can I just get a fucking break please my god I'm sorry this is incoherent and just total rambling

I've been in the same long term relationship since I was 18, I'm turning 26 in a few months. To make a long story short, I feel like I've outgrown this relationship and my partner - but they think we're going to get married.
I know what you're going to jump to "Just rip off the band-aid and break up." The thing is, I've tried. I've expressed multiple times to this person that I'm not happy in the relationship and why, and the response I get is that I'm just mean and trying to argue. But I'm not saying it out of bitterness or meanness or anger, I'm trying to genuinely express how I'm feeling and just being written off even when the feeling is I don't want to be with you.
We do live together and have pretty much since the very beginning, one of my biggest regrets in life is how much I rushed into this. I feel like I'm 65yo in a loveless, sexless marriage and I'm barely 25 and not actually married. Every time marriage is mentioned it gives me a knot of dread in my stomach at the thought of my life being like this forever.
The person I'm with is caring and kind (most of the time) but is very selfish, makes terrible financial decisions, and I often feel like I'm dating a teenager in terms of I'm "in charge" of making sure all the bills are paid, the chores are done, the pets have what they need, and if I want help I have to specifically ask for it and hope that they're willing to do it, or they'll just literally argue with me about washing the dishes or changing the cat litter. I also pay for our only car, plus insurance, and they really don't help at all with that even though I transport them everywhere they need to go.
I've recently gotten a much better job than the one I had before, and now they're asking me to add them to my health insurance which is pretty expensive (even tho we aren't married it's possible) and wants to create a joint bank account. I'm really not willing to be this person's parent for the rest of my life, but they're perfectly content with me taking care of them so they literally think the relationship is perfect, bc they're super happy and content.
Neither of us are well enough off financially that we could live separately, especially under short notice, so I've just kind of been dealing with being called an unaffectionate jerk constantly bc I just don't feel that way anymore. Idk if I want advice or just to vent but yeah.
Edited to add: we have 4 pets together and I'd feel super guilty if we broke up and they couldn't see each other anymore. Id be down to be friends and have visitation but they probably wouldn't and would most likely move states if we separated. Someone help me deal with this.