Smart light switch tp link
HomeAutomation
2010.12.28 18:10 rad_thundercat HomeAutomation
A subreddit focused on automating your home, housework or household activity. Sensors, switches, cameras, locks, etc. Any automation questions/discussions are welcome!
2017.04.25 04:13 TP-Link + Kasa Smart
The subreddit for all things TP-Link and Kasa Smart, including Wi-Fi routers, network switches, smart plugs, smart bulbs, smart light switches, cameras, and more!
2014.11.21 01:08 bianna32 TP-Link / KASA Smart / Tapo USA
Welcome to the Official subreddit for TP-Link, Kasa Smart, Tapo, and Deco. Our goal is to provide a space for like-minded people to help each other, share ideas and grow projects involving TP-Link products from the United States. Please note that we may only provide support regarding consumer products sold in the United States. However, answers may apply to a variety of TP-Link Products.
2023.03.30 03:02 Realistic_Fan_7171 45% Off Hot Coffee Warmer Mug Heater: Electric Smart Beverage Cup Warmer Plate with Automatic Switch Gravity Sensor for Desk DP
 | submitted by Realistic_Fan_7171 to AmazonPromoCodesMA [link] [comments] |
2023.03.30 03:02 TheTribeofYHWH Why did God have to take on flesh?
God is a morally perfect Father and Judge. His love/mercy and his justice cannot be compromised. If people weren’t held responsible for wrongdoings, he wouldn’t be morally perfect. It's like saying a judge has the power to not convict a guilty criminal, but then they would no longer be a just judge. Even God wouldn’t be able to do something unjust while still being just. As such, God must respond to sin. And this dovetails with my further point, which is that all people are imperfect, or miss the mark sort of speak. A person may question and ask: why can't God create heaven to begin with? But it’s possible that no matter what world God creates with free creatures, we would go wrong anyway. Keep in mind that it's logically impossible for God to make someone freely do good, and omnipotence is traditionally defined as being able to do anything logically possible. Spiritual forces (e.g., the fall of Satan) only propounds the issue. This all means that heaven could only be at the final stage of history.
Support for this argument comes from the logical impossibility for God to create an impeccable free will (a libertarian free will with the impossibility of sinning). Since God contains such a will, God would be creating another God in that case. And due to the logical impossibility of creating the uncreated, He could have not created such a will. This could support the idea that God couldn't have created anybody whom He foreknew would always freely do the good. It's possible that any person with libertarian free will would eventually go wrong.
One may come back and say: what about free will in heaven? Medieval theologians liked to talk of the “Beatific Vision” which the blessed in heaven will receive. There the veil will be removed, and we shall see Christ face to face in all of His loveliness and goodness. The vision of Christ, the source of infinite goodness and love, will be so overwhelming as to remove all freedom to sin. One may ask, but why not just create us in this way to begin with? I would respond with saying that, while having free will on earth, God simply permanently cemented that freely chosen decision to accept God or not upon mortal death. Love still exists in heaven because God affirms the free-willed decision to follow God while on earth. Plus, it's only the ability to sin that will be removed. For example, the redeemed will have at least some measure of free will. They won’t retain a choice about whether to worship, but they might well have a choice about how to worship. Thus, in at some many respects of heavenly life even on this view, one will be the source of one's own actions. And even so, there still would be morally significant actions done in heaven, such as supererogatory actions.
One could come back and say that someone who being always placed in circumstances that God foreknew would lead to good (free) choices is possible. But there would be absolutely no soul-building on this view. Timothy Pawl points out an illustration in his 2009 paper "Incompatibilism, Sin, and Free Will in Heaven," "suppose that Smith is prone to adultery. But Smith’s wife knows this about him. Suppose she knows the precise circumstances he would have to be in to commit adultery, or even freely will to commit adultery. Now suppose she is very good at keeping him out of these circumstances such that he is never again in adultery-prone circumstances. Extend the example a bit more and suppose that she knows what circumstances he would have to be in to perform any other sins as well. ... No matter where he finds himself, provided that his wife is watching over him, he won’t sin." This seems absurd in the extreme. Further, is one really free on this view? One certainly wouldn't have any morally significant free will. As Alvin Plantinga defines it; a person has significant free will only if that individual is “free with respect to an action that is morally significant for him,” where an action is morally significant for a person at a given time “if it would be wrong for him to perform the action then but right to refrain, or vice versa" - Plantinga, The Nature of Necessity, p. 166. Significant free will is thus a robust, non-trivial freedom of the will. If God were to create beings who could choose freely only once, and then only between two morally neutral options, it would be true to say that such creatures have free will, but it would be false to say that they have significant free will. But we would lack this if God always simply placed people in certain situations that he foreknows would lead to good decisions.
Since all morally responsible humans miss the mark and have done wrong things, none of us deserve heaven. In fact, many people curiously ask the question: “how could an all loving all powerful God send anyone to eternal hell”? But a better question could be: “how could an all just God send anyone to heaven”? This is especially since Gods justice cannot be compromised by his other characteristics. God as Judge does not merely pardon us but, being essentially just, exacts the punishment demanded by retributive justice. He does not exact it from us but from Himself in Christ. We who accept Christ’s substitutionary sacrifice are thereby freed from our liability to punishment and our guilt expunged. Seeing that Christ has vicariously satisfied the demands of divine retributive justice on our behalf, God can, in turn, pardon us of our sins. It is in that sense that God can be said to have forgiven our sins. This is the whole reason why Christians say that Jesus is the only way. If one doesn’t accept the offer of mercy only made possible by God taking on human flesh to take on the punishment that His own nature demands one's freely chosen sins punished with, one falls back on Gods justice. As such, God's doesn't send anyone to hell, people send themselves.
And this is what all makes Isaiah 52:13-53:12 so beautiful. It's not a righteous third party that dies for our sins. It's God Himself who took on human flesh and died for our sins. And this text was written over 500 years before Jesus!
submitted by TheTribeofYHWH to BibleProject [link] [comments]
Support for this argument comes from the logical impossibility for God to create an impeccable free will (a libertarian free will with the impossibility of sinning). Since God contains such a will, God would be creating another God in that case. And due to the logical impossibility of creating the uncreated, He could have not created such a will. This could support the idea that God couldn't have created anybody whom He foreknew would always freely do the good. It's possible that any person with libertarian free will would eventually go wrong.
One may come back and say: what about free will in heaven? Medieval theologians liked to talk of the “Beatific Vision” which the blessed in heaven will receive. There the veil will be removed, and we shall see Christ face to face in all of His loveliness and goodness. The vision of Christ, the source of infinite goodness and love, will be so overwhelming as to remove all freedom to sin. One may ask, but why not just create us in this way to begin with? I would respond with saying that, while having free will on earth, God simply permanently cemented that freely chosen decision to accept God or not upon mortal death. Love still exists in heaven because God affirms the free-willed decision to follow God while on earth. Plus, it's only the ability to sin that will be removed. For example, the redeemed will have at least some measure of free will. They won’t retain a choice about whether to worship, but they might well have a choice about how to worship. Thus, in at some many respects of heavenly life even on this view, one will be the source of one's own actions. And even so, there still would be morally significant actions done in heaven, such as supererogatory actions.
One could come back and say that someone who being always placed in circumstances that God foreknew would lead to good (free) choices is possible. But there would be absolutely no soul-building on this view. Timothy Pawl points out an illustration in his 2009 paper "Incompatibilism, Sin, and Free Will in Heaven," "suppose that Smith is prone to adultery. But Smith’s wife knows this about him. Suppose she knows the precise circumstances he would have to be in to commit adultery, or even freely will to commit adultery. Now suppose she is very good at keeping him out of these circumstances such that he is never again in adultery-prone circumstances. Extend the example a bit more and suppose that she knows what circumstances he would have to be in to perform any other sins as well. ... No matter where he finds himself, provided that his wife is watching over him, he won’t sin." This seems absurd in the extreme. Further, is one really free on this view? One certainly wouldn't have any morally significant free will. As Alvin Plantinga defines it; a person has significant free will only if that individual is “free with respect to an action that is morally significant for him,” where an action is morally significant for a person at a given time “if it would be wrong for him to perform the action then but right to refrain, or vice versa" - Plantinga, The Nature of Necessity, p. 166. Significant free will is thus a robust, non-trivial freedom of the will. If God were to create beings who could choose freely only once, and then only between two morally neutral options, it would be true to say that such creatures have free will, but it would be false to say that they have significant free will. But we would lack this if God always simply placed people in certain situations that he foreknows would lead to good decisions.
Since all morally responsible humans miss the mark and have done wrong things, none of us deserve heaven. In fact, many people curiously ask the question: “how could an all loving all powerful God send anyone to eternal hell”? But a better question could be: “how could an all just God send anyone to heaven”? This is especially since Gods justice cannot be compromised by his other characteristics. God as Judge does not merely pardon us but, being essentially just, exacts the punishment demanded by retributive justice. He does not exact it from us but from Himself in Christ. We who accept Christ’s substitutionary sacrifice are thereby freed from our liability to punishment and our guilt expunged. Seeing that Christ has vicariously satisfied the demands of divine retributive justice on our behalf, God can, in turn, pardon us of our sins. It is in that sense that God can be said to have forgiven our sins. This is the whole reason why Christians say that Jesus is the only way. If one doesn’t accept the offer of mercy only made possible by God taking on human flesh to take on the punishment that His own nature demands one's freely chosen sins punished with, one falls back on Gods justice. As such, God's doesn't send anyone to hell, people send themselves.
And this is what all makes Isaiah 52:13-53:12 so beautiful. It's not a righteous third party that dies for our sins. It's God Himself who took on human flesh and died for our sins. And this text was written over 500 years before Jesus!
\God Speaks:]) "See, my servant1 shall succeed; he shall be exalted and lifted up, and shall be very high. Just as there were many who were astonished at you—so marred was his appearance, beyond human semblance, and his form beyond that of mortals—so he shall sprinkle many nations; kings shall shut their mouths because of him; for that which had not been told them they shall see, and that which they had not heard they shall contemplate. \Israel Speaks:]) Who has believed what we have heard? And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed? For he grew up before him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of dry ground; he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by others; a man of pains and acquainted with sorrows; and like the hiding of the face for him, he was despised, and we held him of no account. Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we accounted him stricken, struck down by God, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed. We all like sheep have gone astray; we have all turned to our own ways, but the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all. He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth. By a perversion of justice he was taken away. Yet who of his generation even considered that he was cut off from the land of the living, stricken for the transgression of my people to whom the blow belonged? They made his grave with the wicked and with a rich man in his death, although he had done no violence, and there was no deceit in his mouth. Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him with weakness. When you make his life a guilt offering, he shall see offspring, and shall prolong days; and through him the will of the Lord shall prosper. Out of his anguish he shall see light; he shall find satisfaction through his knowledge. \God Speaks:]) The righteous one, my servant, shall make many to be considered righteous, and he shall bear their sins. Therefore I will allot him a portion with the many, and he shall divide the spoil with the multitudes; because he poured out his life to death, and was numbered with the transgressors; yet he bore the sin of the many, and will intervene for the transgressors."
-------------
1 There is huge debate and controversy over the identity of the Servant in Isaiah. On the one hand, Isaiah says Israel is the Servant outside of the Servant songs. On the other hand, the Servant reads like an individual in the Servant songs. There is a quite simple resolution to this. While the Servant is identified as Jacob-Israel outside of the songs, the nation of Israel is revealed within the dynamic movement of the four Servant songs as being embodied in a suffering individual figure. So, the Servant never stops being "Israel," but "Jacob-Israel" undergoes a reduction down to one within these songs. This is not my invention but is rather a prominent scholarly opinion. For example, Ricki Watts writes in his 1990 article: "In cognizance of the individual traits . . . it would appear that true Israel has been reduced to one, cf. 53:6 and ch. 48" - Rikki Watts, 1990: p. 55. The Servant within the Servant Songs can't be Jacob-Israel as a collective, because there are numerous points of contrast between the Servant and Israel as a nation. For example, in Isa. 49:5-6 the Servant has a mission to the nation as a group. This means that the nation as Servant is understood to shrink in size. But is this shrinking in size down to one person, or a righteous remnant? Isaiah 49:6 qualifies Israel as the remnant, so the reduction of the Servant seems to be down to one person. One also can't so easily compare the individual language applied to Israel outside of the songs with the Servant in the songs, since Israel as Servant is intentionally shrunk down in size so as to be distinct from Israel as a nation, as indicated by Isa. 49:5-6, along with the heightening of the individualistic language in each successive song. This combination of shrinking and heightening seems to signify an intentional reduction of what the prophet considered true Israel down to one. Further, the switch from the "Servant" in Isaiah 40-53 to the collective "servants" of the Servant motif in Isaiah 54-66 through the Servant's offspring implies that the Servant Songs have, in the context of the book as a whole, both a primary individual sense, referring to the Servant, and a secondary collective sense, referring to the faithful remnant, cf. Isaiah 50:10-11, the servants of the Servant. Lastly, the people of Israel and its remnant in the context of Isaiah are transgressors, e.g., Isa. 46:1-12; 48:1-11, while the Servant is faithful and righteous, Isa. 53:9, 11. Many other points could be raised. Isaiah 49:3 does not preclude this, unless one begs the question against the "Israel-reduced-to-one" view. Plus, in Isa. 49:3, the name of Israel is probably a predicate: "you are Israel" - Jaap Dekker 2012: 38-39. So, is the Servant an individual or Israel? Both!
2023.03.30 03:02 otherside_b North and South Chapter 19 Discussion- “Angel Visits” (Spoilers up to chapter 19)
Discussion Prompts:
Project Gutenberg
Librivox Audiobook
Final Line:
submitted by otherside_b to ClassicBookClub [link] [comments]
- If you were advising Margaret, would you pick the white dress, pink dress or green dress?
- Bessy says she saw Margaret in a dream, before she even came to Milton. Do you think this is possible?
- Bessy wants to see Margaret in her best dress before the dinner party. Will it happen?
- Mr. Hale has been talking with John about the workmen's complaints and has been schooled in the economic realities of Milton. The teacher has become the student. What do you think of this development?
- Margaret begins to resent John because he knows about her mother's ill health. Can you understand these feelings?
- The Higgins neighbour Jack Boucher tells of how the strike is affecting his family. What did you think of this section of the chapter?
- Anything else to discuss?
Project Gutenberg
Librivox Audiobook
Final Line:
Good night—good afternoon, m’appen I should say—but th’ light is dim an’ misty to-day.”
2023.03.30 03:01 Hanako819 My First Dream PC Specs
PCPartPicker Part List
submitted by Hanako819 to dreambuild [link] [comments]
2023.03.30 03:00 gcp_updates_bot March 29, 2023 GCP release notes
Link
GCP release notes for March 29, 2023
Release notes
Artifact Registry is now available in the europe-west12 region (Turin, Italy).
BigQuery ==> Feature
Compute (analysis) is now generally available (GA) in three new BigQuery editions : Standard, Enterprise, and Enterprise Plus. These editions support the slots autoscaling model to meet your organizations' needs and budgets.
==> Feature
Autoscaling slots are now generally available (GA). Autoscaling slot reservations and commitments created during the feature's preview have been set to BigQuery Enterprise edition .
Chronicle ==> Changed
The following supported default parsers have changed. Each is listed by product name and ingestion label, if applicable.
- Area1 Security ( AREA1 )
- AWS Security Hub ( AWS_SECURITY_HUB )
- Azure AD ( AZURE_AD )
- Carbon Black ( CB_EDR )
- Cisco ASA ( CISCO_ASA_FIREWALL )
- Cisco Switch ( CISCO_SWITCH )
- Cloud Audit Logs ( N/A )
- CrowdStrike Falcon ( CS_EDR )
- Darktrace ( DARKTRACE )
- Elastic Windows Event Log Beats ( ELASTIC_WINLOGBEAT )
- Google Chrome Browser Cloud Management (CBCM) ( N/A )
- Hashicorp Vault ( HASHICORP )
- Illumio Core ( ILLUMIO_CORE )
- Linux Auditing System (AuditD) ( AUDITD )
- ManageEngine ADAudit Plus ( ADAUDIT_PLUS )
- Microsoft Graph API Alerts ( MICROSOFT_GRAPH_ALERT )
- Netskope ( NETSKOPE_ALERT )
- Office 365 ( OFFICE_365 )
- Okta ( OKTA )
- Palo Alto Networks Firewall ( PAN_FIREWALL )
- Seqrite Endpoint Security (EPS) ( SEQRITE_ENDPOINT )
- STIX Threat Intelligence ( STIX )
- Trend Micro Vision One ( TRENDMICRO_VISION_ONE )
- Unix system ( NIX_SYSTEM )
- VMware vRealize Suite ( VMWARE_VREALIZE )
- Windows Event ( WINEVTLOG )
- Windows Event (XML) ( WINEVTLOG_XML )
- Workspace Alerts ( WORKSPACE_ALERTS )
- ZScaler NGFW ( ZSCALER_FIREWALL )
For details about changes in each parser, see Supported default parsers .
FHIR search results are limited by the response size. For more information, see Pagination and sorting and Including additional resources in search results .
Cloud Logging ==> Changed
When you create a log view and use the source() function in your filter, the argument to the function is now validated to ensure that it is a single string representing a project, folder, billing account or organization.
Cloud SQL for PostgreSQL ==> Feature
The rollout of the following PostgreSQL minor versions, extension versions, and plugin versions is currently underway:
Minor versions
- 10.21 is upgraded to 10.22.
- 11.16 is upgraded to 11.17.
- 12.11 is upgraded to 12.12.
- 13.7 is upgraded to 13.8.
- 14.4 is upgraded to 14.5.
- plv8 is upgraded from 3.1.2 to 3.1.4.
- wal2json is upgraded from 2.3 to 2.4.
- pgTAP is upgraded from 1.1.0 to 1.2.0.
- PostGIS is upgraded from 3.1.4 to 3.1.7.
- pg_partman is upgraded from 4.5.1 to 4.7.0.
- pg_wait_sampling is upgraded from 1.1.3 to 1.1.4.
- pg_hint_plan is upgraded from 1.3.7 to 1.4.
- pglogical is upgraded from 2.4.1 to 2.4.2.
If you use a maintenance window, then the updates to the minor, extension, and plugin versions happen according to the timeframe that you set in the window. Otherwise, the updates occur within the next few weeks.
The new maintenance version is [PostgreSQL version].R20230316.02_02 . To learn how to check your maintenance version, see Self service maintenance. To find your maintenance window or to manage maintenance updates, see Find and set maintenance windows .
Cloud Workstations is available in the following regions:
- asia-south1 (India)
- us-east4 (Virginia, North America)
For more information, see Locations .
The Dataflow VM image has been updated to include mitigations for multiple vulnerabilities by upgrading to cos-97-16919-235-30 . For the full list of mitigations, see the Container-Optimized OS release notes .
Dataflow jobs started on or after March 29, 2023 will run VM instances that use this image.
Document AI Warehouse ==> Feature
Allow users to upload and view TIFF file types in the UI.
Google Kubernetes Engine ==> Feature
Starting from GKE 1.26, cluster autoscaler can drain Pods from multiple nodes in parallel. The removal criteria are not changing, so the end state after scale down is going to be the same, but it will be achieved faster.
2023.03.30 03:00 Embarrassed_Day7383 Light switch!!!
I have a question for my fellow electricians, the other day I went to turn off my light and when I switched it to the off position, I heard a pop come from the switch box, I didn’t think much of it until I got back home and came to turn on the light and the lights did not want to work any more, my first thought was a tripped breaker I turned them all off and on and double check nothing was tripped, still no luck, i then thought maybe the switch somehow fried, so I bought a new switch and installed it and still no luck
Any thoughts or suggestions?
submitted by Embarrassed_Day7383 to electrical [link] [comments]
Any thoughts or suggestions?
2023.03.30 03:00 Due_Channel4386 45% Off Hot Coffee Warmer Mug Heater: Electric Smart Beverage Cup Warmer Plate with Automatic Switch Gravity Sensor for Desk nb
submitted by Due_Channel4386 to TodaysDealsUSA [link] [comments]
2023.03.30 02:59 Embarrassed_Day7383 Light switch!!!
I have a question for my fellow electricians, the other day I went to turn off my light and when I switched it to the off position, I heard a pop come from the switch box, I didn’t think much of it until I got back home and came to turn on the light and the lights did not want to work any more, my first thought was a tripped breaker I turned them all off and on and double check nothing was tripped, still no luck, i then thought maybe the switch somehow fried, so I bought a new switch and installed it and still no luck
Any thoughts or suggestions?
submitted by Embarrassed_Day7383 to askanelectrician [link] [comments]
Any thoughts or suggestions?
2023.03.30 02:59 splithoofiewoofies Thriving in postgrad
Apologies in advance as I know many experienced the opposite or even worse, both were terrible for folk. I just wanted to share some excitement over my own experience.
After my BBusEc my friends, supervisors, lecturers, literally everyone - told me how fucking hard Honours was. They said maybe I should go Masters since its longer and no class time. Honours is 1 year dissertation side-by-side with 6 week intensive classes. 4 per semester, 2 by 2.
I feel it may be early to say I'm only 5 weeks in but I am THRIVING here. I don't have an automatic one week extension on my Disability Plan anymore it's a "whatever the supervisors and lecturers agree with" extension. For my supervisor she has even said she doesn't mind giving me SIX MORE MONTHS.
But since I have a genius smart and kind lecturer I feel like I wanna impress her right? And so I work hard, in advance, for all my meetings.
There's a billion rabbit holes but YOU'RE ALLOWED TO GO ON THEM EVEN IF THEY DON'T PAN OUT. I am allowed to ask what happens if we do this with this data, or try this with this concept? I could be utterly wrong, but I'm allowed to explore it! And discuss it. And come up with better ideas!
I hate having looming deadlines. I'm not the adhd that does things last minute (my partner is poor you folks I am so sorry) I am the one that cannot STAND things looming over my head so I just do them.
No more waiting for a particular lecture to smash out the report I knew about for months but had no details on. Nope, I get the details in advance! I can work on the project to finish my classwork before class even starts should I want. It's all right there.
I have completed all my work for one class two weeks in advance. I finished the report before the link to submit it even opened. I had the rubrik and topic so it was fine.
So I just get my work and do my work. No more waiting around because 400 people are taking this class and they can't accommodate my stupid questions or deep dives or early submissions. Nope. Just whatever I ask the lecturers or my supe, if it's reasonable, I get.
I feel like exams murdered my undergrad experience. They killed me. Killed my grade. Killed my tenacity. Not knowing what the rubrik was for a report until 24 hrs before it was due sometimes. Not getting feedback on those reports. I get feedback AS I AM WORKING now, so I know what to fix BEFORE it's a fucking issue. None of this "this is your grade cause you didn't understand but nobody had time to tell you" shit.
I have never felt more at home than I do here. It's wonderful. I love my dissertation. I love my classes. I love how I am able to take care of my own damn timeline but with a someone who I am accountable to in the end. The accountability keeps me working, and the feedback keeps me with specific tasks I need to complete. No more vague fucking assignments!
Just wanted to let that out in case if anyone is fucking dying in undergrad... You might actually do better post grad! My reviews don't even hurt, cause I am just glad to have actual direction!
Maybe it'll work for you. Maybe it won't. But it's worth it to try, if you can :)
submitted by splithoofiewoofies to ADHD [link] [comments]
After my BBusEc my friends, supervisors, lecturers, literally everyone - told me how fucking hard Honours was. They said maybe I should go Masters since its longer and no class time. Honours is 1 year dissertation side-by-side with 6 week intensive classes. 4 per semester, 2 by 2.
I feel it may be early to say I'm only 5 weeks in but I am THRIVING here. I don't have an automatic one week extension on my Disability Plan anymore it's a "whatever the supervisors and lecturers agree with" extension. For my supervisor she has even said she doesn't mind giving me SIX MORE MONTHS.
But since I have a genius smart and kind lecturer I feel like I wanna impress her right? And so I work hard, in advance, for all my meetings.
There's a billion rabbit holes but YOU'RE ALLOWED TO GO ON THEM EVEN IF THEY DON'T PAN OUT. I am allowed to ask what happens if we do this with this data, or try this with this concept? I could be utterly wrong, but I'm allowed to explore it! And discuss it. And come up with better ideas!
I hate having looming deadlines. I'm not the adhd that does things last minute (my partner is poor you folks I am so sorry) I am the one that cannot STAND things looming over my head so I just do them.
No more waiting for a particular lecture to smash out the report I knew about for months but had no details on. Nope, I get the details in advance! I can work on the project to finish my classwork before class even starts should I want. It's all right there.
I have completed all my work for one class two weeks in advance. I finished the report before the link to submit it even opened. I had the rubrik and topic so it was fine.
So I just get my work and do my work. No more waiting around because 400 people are taking this class and they can't accommodate my stupid questions or deep dives or early submissions. Nope. Just whatever I ask the lecturers or my supe, if it's reasonable, I get.
I feel like exams murdered my undergrad experience. They killed me. Killed my grade. Killed my tenacity. Not knowing what the rubrik was for a report until 24 hrs before it was due sometimes. Not getting feedback on those reports. I get feedback AS I AM WORKING now, so I know what to fix BEFORE it's a fucking issue. None of this "this is your grade cause you didn't understand but nobody had time to tell you" shit.
I have never felt more at home than I do here. It's wonderful. I love my dissertation. I love my classes. I love how I am able to take care of my own damn timeline but with a someone who I am accountable to in the end. The accountability keeps me working, and the feedback keeps me with specific tasks I need to complete. No more vague fucking assignments!
Just wanted to let that out in case if anyone is fucking dying in undergrad... You might actually do better post grad! My reviews don't even hurt, cause I am just glad to have actual direction!
Maybe it'll work for you. Maybe it won't. But it's worth it to try, if you can :)
2023.03.30 02:58 MistyRoseMage Got fired on day 3 of my job and feel like a complete failure
Got fired after 3 days. I feel like my life is over and I feel like a failure
For background I (28f ) have adhd and struggle keeping my attention with training videos often because it's repetitive, monotonous, and I am more of a hands on learner. I learn by doing. And part of my adhd unfortunately has me doze off due to a lack of dopamine.
I got an office job that had me watch these videos. At first they didn't tell me to take notes , rather just to watch them but being that it was repetitive with no particular order it did get me sleepy. It didn't help that I wasn't given headphones and the people around me spoke so loud you can't hear the videos at full volume. Mid way I was told to take notes. So I began all over and tried writing notes constructive having to pause whenever someone spoke and repeat the video all over again. The repetitive nature of this got me sleepy but When given tasks that weren't video related I did perk up and did exactly as asked. Even switch languages when needed.
I was asked to try a few things and I learned quickly with the hands on training. Unfortunately on my third day they let me go because I lacked energy while watching the monotone videos and got sleepy.
It also didn't help that the lights constantly went on and off. I wrote a grand total of 20 pages of notes before they let me go. They had me call 11 people for surveys and I managed to fill 8/11. 3 didn't answer the phone after I called twice so I left voicemails and made notes on that.
I feel like a complete failure and hate my brain for shutting down at the videos. I felt that if they saw me hands on it would of been different but they barely tested me out on my hands on skills in the field. My fiance is disappointed in me and I wouldn't blame him if he left me.I love him but feel I failed him here. I wish I could of done better and now I am scouring for a new job.
I know I messed up and this was completely my fault. I probably bit off more than I could chew. And now I feel like I am drowning.
submitted by MistyRoseMage to offmychest [link] [comments]
For background I (28f ) have adhd and struggle keeping my attention with training videos often because it's repetitive, monotonous, and I am more of a hands on learner. I learn by doing. And part of my adhd unfortunately has me doze off due to a lack of dopamine.
I got an office job that had me watch these videos. At first they didn't tell me to take notes , rather just to watch them but being that it was repetitive with no particular order it did get me sleepy. It didn't help that I wasn't given headphones and the people around me spoke so loud you can't hear the videos at full volume. Mid way I was told to take notes. So I began all over and tried writing notes constructive having to pause whenever someone spoke and repeat the video all over again. The repetitive nature of this got me sleepy but When given tasks that weren't video related I did perk up and did exactly as asked. Even switch languages when needed.
I was asked to try a few things and I learned quickly with the hands on training. Unfortunately on my third day they let me go because I lacked energy while watching the monotone videos and got sleepy.
It also didn't help that the lights constantly went on and off. I wrote a grand total of 20 pages of notes before they let me go. They had me call 11 people for surveys and I managed to fill 8/11. 3 didn't answer the phone after I called twice so I left voicemails and made notes on that.
I feel like a complete failure and hate my brain for shutting down at the videos. I felt that if they saw me hands on it would of been different but they barely tested me out on my hands on skills in the field. My fiance is disappointed in me and I wouldn't blame him if he left me.I love him but feel I failed him here. I wish I could of done better and now I am scouring for a new job.
I know I messed up and this was completely my fault. I probably bit off more than I could chew. And now I feel like I am drowning.
2023.03.30 02:58 EducationalCod3362 45% Off Hot Coffee Warmer Mug Heater: Electric Smart Beverage Cup Warmer Plate with Automatic Switch Gravity Sensor for Desk XM
| | submitted by EducationalCod3362 to HotDealsOnlineUSA [link] [comments] |
2023.03.30 02:57 UnionJobs4America Questing about ticking converter
I am super new at all of this and not my electronics skills is definitely lacking so sorry if I misuse the wrong terminology.
Recently the breaker for our 5th wheel just flipped. I believe it was controlling the converter due to the fact that the galley lights and everything that ran off of battery power eventually started going out. The propane heater also went out (not sure if the fan or the igniter was attached to it but that’s my guess.)
Our guy is booked way out right now, but he told us that it might be the batteries and that he thought ours were old last he checked. He was definitely right about that and they were at least a decade old (had a previous owner.)
I replaced the two batteries and tried to switch the breaker back on but still wasn’t working. I pulled the fuse out and put it back in and tried the breaker again and it worked fine. I turned on the propane heater and the blower and ignition dreamed to worked great and hot hot quickly.
However, I noticed a ticking noise from under the 5th wheel. I crawled around and the sound sounds like it’s coming from the converter. The lights seem to be working well and when the heater came on the lights didn’t dim anywhere near as much/at all. So I’m guessing that things are working like they should relatively.
I’m wondering if the ticking from the converter is the batteries filling all the way up? I don’t think I ever noticed it before the breaker flipped, but wanted to see if anyone had any experience or thoughts on the subject.
submitted by UnionJobs4America to RVLiving [link] [comments]
Recently the breaker for our 5th wheel just flipped. I believe it was controlling the converter due to the fact that the galley lights and everything that ran off of battery power eventually started going out. The propane heater also went out (not sure if the fan or the igniter was attached to it but that’s my guess.)
Our guy is booked way out right now, but he told us that it might be the batteries and that he thought ours were old last he checked. He was definitely right about that and they were at least a decade old (had a previous owner.)
I replaced the two batteries and tried to switch the breaker back on but still wasn’t working. I pulled the fuse out and put it back in and tried the breaker again and it worked fine. I turned on the propane heater and the blower and ignition dreamed to worked great and hot hot quickly.
However, I noticed a ticking noise from under the 5th wheel. I crawled around and the sound sounds like it’s coming from the converter. The lights seem to be working well and when the heater came on the lights didn’t dim anywhere near as much/at all. So I’m guessing that things are working like they should relatively.
I’m wondering if the ticking from the converter is the batteries filling all the way up? I don’t think I ever noticed it before the breaker flipped, but wanted to see if anyone had any experience or thoughts on the subject.
2023.03.30 02:56 wootiown Wide, wireless mice?
Currently use an MM720 and I'd like a similar that's also wireless. Anything with the Naos style form factor is amazing or at least something with a good pinky support. The Razer basilisk is the best I've found so far and I found it comfier than the Naga somehow, I just hate my pinky touching the mousepad, so if smaller mouse have a form like that that's awesome too. Needs to have BT and 2.4ghz so I can switch between devices, and I'd love something light.
Any ideas?
submitted by wootiown to MouseReview [link] [comments]
Any ideas?
2023.03.30 02:55 Embarrassed_Day7383 Light switch!!
I have a question for my fellow electricians, the other day I went to turn off my light and when I switched it to the off position, I heard a pop come from the switch box, I didn’t think much of it until I got back home and came to turn on the light and the lights did not want to work any more, my first thought was a tripped breaker I turned them all off and on and double check nothing was tripped, still no luck, i then thought maybe the switch somehow fried, so I bought a new switch and installed it and still no luck
Any thoughts or suggestions?
submitted by Embarrassed_Day7383 to AskElectricians [link] [comments]
Any thoughts or suggestions?
2023.03.30 02:55 found-optics Coral
I want you to understand what happened, Darcy.
Awakening to the smell of freshly fried eggs and sizzling bacon was the highlight of the day. I felt as if I could hover across the house like an old cartoon character following the smells. I stepped down the stairs, a content smile brandished across my face. I shrugged as I walked past the minor black mold that started to creep in under the door and waved hello at my family, sitting around the circular dining table. You said that you loved me, and handed me a cup of coffee. It was brown and hot, the aroma of which filled my senses. I sipped it slowly as I listened to my children tell me about their fanatical dreams.
Charles, my oldest, was nearing seventeen, had started to dream up strange dreams that bordered on nightmares. He told me of the times he was standing on a golden sand beach with a singular palm tree beside him. In front of him was a wall, a wall of water that peaked past the clouds. It was as if it was a curtain for the very sky. Atop the peak of the curtain was the raging white rapids of a stirring sea… yet the water did not move. It stayed stationary as Charles slowly made a sand castle from the golden sand. Content even in the face of annihilation.
Debra, nearly fourteen, told of her dream. She described a beautiful green oasis within a pit of sand, from which she slid down from the dunes above. Within, she saw various things and beings that sprouted coral like protrusions across their bodies. It would’ve frightened her, had it not been a dream, and they were kind. They spoke to her, of which Debra only remembered a little about. She said they were from a village, one of which they were exiled from. When Debra asked why, she was met with an apathetic shrug, and a word. “Unlucky.” She said the dream continued, from which they had a lovely time. Unfortunate strangers left to be kind to other unfortunates.
Finally, Timmy, my youngest who had reached the age of twelve just a few months prior, told of his dream. He said it was simple, a simple room, with a simple sound. The gentle tings and tongs of a wind chime outside of a window. The room around him was gray and ascetic, as if unlived in. He said that in this dream, he would only stare at the wind chimes, as they slowly rang him a tune. Enjoyment through the dull.
I smiled in interest at each of their retellings. It was a wondrous thing, human imagination. Before long however, the clock struck thirty past nine and work called to me. I pulled my tie ready and lifted the brown suitcase that I brought to work everyday. I stepped outside to the evergreen plastic lawn, and the ideal American suburb. White walled homes with gable rooftops, lawns of grass, and sprinklers wasting the water.
I waved hello at the neighbors, and they waved back. Responses that remained static throughout the past ten years of living here. Stability is good though, I thought to myself.
Half an hour later, I found myself at the office of my work, typing away at the cheap plastic keyboard as lights flickered on the monitor, the slow whirr of the office filled my ears. The chatter of the workplace felt off, where I’d expect a chuckle from a distant corner of the office, I heard only drawn out sighs. Near the front of the office, my manager sat behind closed shutters, perhaps he knew if something was wrong. I pressed down on a button underneath the monitor screen and it shut off with a dull beep. I walked towards my manager’s office, passing a few grim frowns from my coworkers.
I knocked on the door, through the closed shutters I could see a small peek of my manager, where he sat with his head in his arms. I knocked again and he raised his head, “Come in.” his voice was slurred.
I walked in and could immediately tell he was hungover, or perhaps even drunk. His usually well-kept hair was a tangled frizzy mess. This was the first sign. He talked to me with somber words. I don’t remember what he said exactly, but he spoke about the business and how it was failing. He lifted a piece of dead coral he had on his desk, I assumed it was a paper weight of sorts. He sighed to it and asked me to leave.
I returned to my desk with the same grim expression the rest of my coworkers held. Jobs were getting more difficult to obtain, and I could hear it from the grapevines and newspapers. I used the work phone to make a call to you, I told you about the situation, and you understood.
At least, I thought you did.
When I returned home from the long workday, the phone had a message from the office. I was let go over the phone, it came so suddenly; I had a hard time believing at first. I didn’t lose face in front of the children, I just had to find a new job.
Charles and Debra had put Timmy to bed, they were observant and smart kids. They knew something was wrong.
Charles was the first to ask, “What’s wrong?” He asked me. Debra grew the same worried look that Charles had.
I didn’t know what to tell them at first, it was my responsibility as a parent to take care of them. I had to keep up that image of stability, I’d find a job soon enough. I waved their question away, I knew they weren’t content with my answer.
By the time I got around to eating dinner, it was cold. It’s not that important to mention, but it’s just another straw to the ever burdened camel. We talked over the cold dinner, just you and me.
“What are you going to do?” You asked me, I couldn’t look into your eyes. I felt the tinge of disappointment in your words. It was unfair.
“I’ll find a new job, there’s another place, up a bit into the city, not much longer of a commute…” I said, you said something in response, something about your parents. I didn’t want to be co-dependant. I said it was off the table. We weren’t poor. We had enough money to pay the mortgage for six months, eleven thousand dollars in savings. You said okay, I knew you had malice in your voice.
We ate in silence, just you and me. I wish I could have a meal with you again.
The next morning, Debra had come down with something bad. High temperature, disorientation, and molted skin. You let Charles take Timmy to school, and we went to the hospital with Debra together. They said it was sepsis.
She wouldn’t make it if she didn’t get treatment immediately, so we said yes to everything they told us. I was by her bedside that night, listening to the cold quiet breeze that flowed in.
She spoke to me, slowly, “Dad.” I nodded to her. She said kind things to me, supportive, good-natured words. Then she told me about her dream the previous night.
She described it to me in her fatigued state. Debra returned to that oasis, where she met the coral men. She waved at them and they did not seem to recognize her. They let her in with open arms nonetheless. She said they spoke to her about trust, and how she needs to trust you.
You.
Trust you.
I didn’t hear the rest of her dream. She slept with Charles and Timmy by her side in that hospital that night. I had no idea where you went. The next morning, she went into shock. You got there an hour later, frantically pushing the nurses and doctors to the side. You were shouting her name.
She was fine. The treatments worked and Debra recovered. The doctors said it was a thirty to forty percent mortality rate, and you weren’t there. We fought in the lobby, do you remember that? I do.
The hospital always made me queasy. Knowing that the injured and ill filled every crevice of the building made my skin itch to the bone. I had gone there between my job hunts to visit Debra. Charles and Timmy were worried sick about her, I spoke to Timmy out in the hallway. He asked me where you were, if I had known what I knew now, I would’ve never said anything. I gave him your number and said he could call you. Charles called you too, and I returned to Debra’s side. She was still in a fatigued state, her mind clouded. She would repeat a few of the same phrases about her dream.
“Friendly wants to meet you.”
“They’re so kind, and strange.”
“I want their face.”
Something creeped me out about the last phrase, and how’d she repeat it while closing her eyes. I went to the front desk an hour later, and asked for the current bill.
It was eight thousand dollars, I knew I had eleven thousand dollars in our account. I knew it, I double checked it that morning and I did the math on how many months I could pay on our mortgage.
So why was the bill declined? Why was it that when I called the bank, they told me I had only ten dollars and twenty-six cents left in the account? I told the clerk I’d pay later and walked back into Debra’s room. I looked at her, softly fading away, I wondered if she’d ever fully recover from the sepsis. I knew everyday she stayed meant a few thousand dollars more in debt. Her oxygen line was on the floor, I guess back then safety wasn’t such a big concern. I looked into her eyes, I didn’t see my daughter. I saw a codependent person fading away. My foot found it’s way over the oxygen line, my heel to the ground with the front of my foot hovering just over the line.
Debra turned to face me, “They will meet… they know my caretaker.” I didn’t know she was talking about you, at the time. It was enough to get me to move my foot away. I walked to meet Charles, who was standing outside, leaning against the wall of the hospital with Timmy.
“How is Debra?” Charles asked. He was genuine, a good kid. Too good.
I told him she was fine, and if he’s seen you anywhere. He shrugged, and he lied to my face. “She didn’t tell me anything.”
No, Charles and you spoke for far too long for you to have said nothing to him. Why would he lie?
I asked him again, calmly.
Charles raised his hands up to his sides, “Don’t know. What’s your plan for a job? She told us you got fired. Maybe that’s why she left.”
Something started to stir in me, from that question. “Please mind what you’re saying.” I said back to him.
He was a teenager though, so he continued his speech, “You’ve been out of a job for all of three days, and she already left. There had to be something else going on.” A noise started in my mind, like a crescendo to an opera performance, rising orchestral tension.
“No.” I stuttered, my hands were shaking. “There was nothing else.” Charles wasn’t content with my answer, he sighed and whipped his head to the side. He said something along the lines of how much of a failure I’ve become.
I looked down at Timmy. I asked Timmy to walk away. He did, like a good kid.
Charles started to walk too, I grabbed his wrist. You know that feeling? That feeling that some parents have that makes you just want to… teach your kid a lesson? I’ve tried to type this section out in more detail, several times, but I’m now electing to omit it.
I strangled Charles. I did. He coughed, wheezed and struggled in my hands. His kick to my shin made me let him go. A second later I recognized what I had done, and fell to my knees in front of him.
I was killing my son, why?
He shouted something at me, but I had gone deaf, trapped in my own mind. He snapped at me and grabbed me by my shirt, forcing me to focus on him. We cried together, breaking down our emotional walls to expose to each other what we were feeling. I felt that I was disappointing my entire family, that I was a failure. I didn’t mention what I almost did to Debra.
It’s only been three days, what’s going on?
Later that evening, I drove Timmy and Charles back home. That’s where you come in. You were slumped over the dining room table, a glass of red wine to one side and a disconnected landline to your other side. I came in shouting at you, asking— no, demanding, what happened to the money.
You mumbled something, and tipped the glass over. I asked again and you yelled at me. Charles was quick to take your side, maybe he didn’t hear what I said and just heard me shouting.
“Leave her alone!” He yelled. I balled my fists in anger and shouted again. You stood up out of the chair and threw the glass across the room, it shattered into pieces. I pointed at the door, poor Timmy was so terrified. You scared him so much.
You walked out of the house, that was the last time I ever saw you. When you shut that door behind you, I felt a wave of relief, despair, and loneliness. On the counter, I noticed you left behind a piece of dried coral. It was covered in swirls, gray and dead. Hard as stone yet I could crumble bits of the facade with a hard enough press. I needed to talk to Debra.
Charles and Timmy elected to stay at home, I let them. I would visit Debra myself, driving the car that evening through the lonely highway as my heart beat raced. I kept thinking to myself, replaying every situation in my head, thinking about what was the smart choice.
I found myself at the hospital again, I still wished I never went inside. The clerk at the front office was kind as always. She could tell something was off about me too as I walked to Debra’s room. The window into the room was stained, a speckle of red. It didn’t concern me at first— stepping inside the room showed me something much worse.
I know what they told you, they told you that I did it, and what I’ve told you so far will make it sound like I had the reason to do it but I didn’t. I didn't do it. Did you? Did you? Who did? Was it you? Was it them?
Debra laid in that hospital bed, at first I thought her face had been caved in. I ran to her, grabbing her hand. I was close enough to see what really happened. Her left hand was clutching a medical scalpel, it was covered in dried dead coral. Like someone left it in the ocean for a few decades for the sea to manifest upon it. Remembering her face now is difficult, not because my memory is poor, but just… how it was.
Her face’s skin was upside down. A thin bloody line from the top to the bottom marked a large oval frame of her face. It was as if someone picked up that oval and just turned it around. I could see her eyes behind her cut off lips. Behind her eye sockets were her white teeth, cracked and covered in sea growth. Blood spilled from her ears, eyes, nose, and mouth, gently pooling in her bed. The mouth of hers was twisted and curled, in such a large smile that it was unnatural. I placed my hand to her cold cheek, and I cried. Darcy, I cried, is that not enough? Even after all this time, I remember exactly how her face felt. Like cold meat from the freezer, none of the warmth that she once had. The nurse came in a few minutes after me, or maybe a few seconds. I don’t recall. The nurse restrained me, screamed, and soon enough I was escorted out of the building where dozens of the red and blue had parked up by the front. Flashes of her face kept assaulting my mind, the twisted smile, the teeth behind her eye sockets, the feel of her skin. Debra didn’t deserve this, yet, that smile, it was like she had joy before…
The police had me in one of their cars, and I was taken to the station. My eyes and cheeks covered in dried tears, and my hands in blood. They didn’t arrest me, but their questions were numb to me, I wasn’t in the state of mind to answer them and they let me go a few hours later. I collapsed on the sidewalk outside of the station, curled into a fetal position, crying. One of the policemen came outside to talk to me. I remember him, his voice was uncaring and cold.
“You can’t be out here like that.” He said, or something to that effect. I ignored him, and he dragged me off of the sidewalk and into the lot of the station. I asked him through my broken voice to call for Charles, my son. He agreed and returned to the station. My mind started to drift, and wander, as if it was swimming through a ravine. Rocks on either side of my mind, threatening to poke and scratch me if I diverged from the path before me. I started to dream, there upon the lot of the station.
I remember my own nightmare vividly.
A towering being stood within a sand-encircled oasis. It was hundreds of meters tall, the ankles of the being were at the height of the oasis’s trees. I stood before it, atop the dunes that surrounded the oasis. Long strands of hair, thick as trees, flowed from the skull of the being down to the exposed rib cage. The sun was behind the being, but even then, I could see the coral protrusions from every bit of the skin it had. Twisted and curled, dotted and maze-like, the coral flowed throughout the entirety of the being as it held its head in a bowed state. It was the very definition of colossal, like the sea, and the waters it held.
I walked from the dunes towards the oasis, as if the being was calling my name. Within the oasis, there were two figures facing away from me. Both were women, from their silhouettes, a tall one, and a shorter one. I could see that their hands and arms were covered in a similar coral growth that I started to see everywhere.
As I stepped forward, I recognized the figures, it was you. You and Debra. The figures turned to face me, Debra’s face was the same as I last saw it. Twisted, curled, spiraling, evil. Her smile, arcing from the middle of both sides of her face up to an apex at the top of her head opened slightly. Your face was… You know what your face was. You talked to me.
“What are you talking about?” You said to me, I was confused at first, as I hadn’t said anything. I kept my eyes fixed on Debra. I asked you what you meant.
“Psycho. Where’s Timmy!” You shouted at me, I looked at you, your face changed. It would be blank, if not for the dozens of holes in a neatly arranged grid covering your entire face. Every one of them beckoned my gaze, and the sense of vertigo felt as if I was falling. Your face, I know now that it was resembling a phone’s speaker.
I responded, slowly, freezing up in terror as my gaze darted between the two of you, “I.. I don’t know.” I closed my eyes, I could feel the heat of the oasis fade, and the cool breeze returned around me. I felt a hand shake my shoulder and I opened my eyes. A policeman was standing next to me, holding a cellphone to my ear, he snapped his fingers in front of my eyes.
You yelled at me again, through the phone, “What the fuck did you do to Debra?” I felt pleasant though, hearing your voice. Even if it was a yell. The policeman removed the phone from my ear before I could respond, he pressed down on a button and your voice disappeared.
“Some wife, huh?” He chuckled to himself as he held the large phone in his hand. His words hurt. He continued to speak, “Debra… that’s the dead kid from the hospital, yeah?” He narrowed his eyes at me and grabbed my shoulder. He told me to come with him.
I was in a trance-like state from that point, like the environment around me shifted with me in place. One moment, I was at the booking station, the next, the jail cell. They threw me in with a new set of gray dull overalls. Around me, gray concrete, and a singular window. I leaned my head against the wall, staring out into the window. I was tired. My vision blurred and my mind felt as if it was turning on and off, alternating every other moment. I could only smell the bit of blood that remained on my skin and the metal aroma that arose from the bars of the cell. I focused outside, out into the window. A wind chime hung from something outside, slowly drifting around in the breeze. I listened to the gentle melody it played as I started to slowly hit my head against the prison wall.
I awoke to the sunlight against my eyes, I was laying on the hard concrete floor. Every joint in my body ached and felt exhausted. My vision was blurry, but I could see something new in the corner of my cell. It was coral, sharp and jagged, spiral patterns decorated its skin and it was alive. It was a shade of yellow, blue, and green— the air felt thick and heavy— as if I was breathing the ocean itself. I started to cough. A policeman approached my cell, he slammed on the bars with his baton and yelled at me. Then he saw the coral, and he fell.
Then another policeman came.
And another.
They learned eventually. Now three policemen laid, dead, at the foot of the cell. I kept my gaze at the coral. Watching it grow with my own eyes as it reaches out towards me. The swirls and twists of it slowly morphed on the surface. Slowly it molded into Debra’s twisted face. Sour and angry, her smile turned to a frown, two pale eyeballs peeked from behind the lips.
I crawled away from it and reached my hand through the cell, tearing a pair of keys from one of the dead policemen.
The coral came closer, stretching and bending as if it was the joints of a rotting corpse.
I jammed the key into the cell lock from the outside and managed to unlock it. I slammed the door against the corpses and stumbled out of the cell. I slammed out the front door of the station.
Flashlights beamed into my eyes as I could hear frantic shouting from the policemen outside. I shut my eyes and collapsed on the steps of the station. A moment later all I heard was silence. When I opened my eyes, I saw all the policemen twisted and curved, like coral. Spirals across their skin and their faces moved to other parts of their body. One’s mouth had shifted all the way to their hand. I called out for help, if anyone could help. I looked down at my hands and noticed I was holding a scalpel, a scalpel covered in coral. I dropped it onto the floor, blood decorated its exterior.
I fell into another dream, there upon the front of the station.
I was back in the oasis, half a dozen new men were there, covered in coral growths and twisted limbs. Their faces were sinister, curled, like abominations. I watched as the colossal picked up one of the men and tore them apart. It roared, a roar that shook my very spine. It splattered the man onto its ribcage and turned its head toward another man. The colossal being was— absorbing them.
I knew what I had to do. I’m sorry for doing it, I hope you see now, there was a reason. It had to be stopped.
I slammed my head against the oasis floor and I awoke at the station’s front steps. The coral seeped out of the station, curling and twisted. There was commotion outside, but none seemed to notice me as I crawled away. The coral was following me, I could see it slowly inch by inch, twist its way toward me.
I found myself in one of the police cars, driving this time, seeking a way to end the coral safely, without hurting any more people. I remembered at home, I had a gun, kept underneath the bed. I took care not to speed, I didn’t want to hurt anyone else.
I didn’t want to hurt anyone else.
It wasn’t my intention.
I really didn’t mean to.
I stopped the car at home, I rushed inside, ran into our room and tore the place apart. I was frantic, I didn’t even notice them. The coral started to sprout from me, I could feel the calcium structures start to twist within my stomach. I tore apart the final drawer, the gun seemed to gleam at me.
I picked it up.
“Dad?”
Timmy. I turned to face him, the coral was spreading from my body. I remembered the colossal being, what it was doing. I fired the gun at him. It was a haze from then, I remember a scream… Charles’ scream. I shouted for him, yelling at him to come out. I could feel the coral splinter into every bone of my body tearing my flesh from within. My eyes grew bloodshot and my hand started to seize. I fired the gun throughout the house, again, and again. Charles fled outside, tripping on a piece of coral and slamming his chin into the concrete walkway. I pointed the gun at him as he desperately pleaded with his hands in the air and I shot him.
I turned the gun to myself, pain reverberated throughout my entire body. The coral sprouted from my shoulder, a curling bit of evil that twisted and wriggled. I pressed down on the trigger, and the gun’s hammer struck an empty chamber.
I screamed, I threw the gun onto the street and walked back into the house. Coral had grown all over the inside, so I reached the landline. I dialed you.
“Please send your message after the beep.” It chirped back to me.
I left the phone hanging and walked to our home office, passing by pictures of our family as the coral slowly grew over them. I collapsed in this chair, typing on the computer what had happened. I’m hoping by posting this… you would find it... and understand what happened.
You would understand.
submitted by found-optics to nosleep [link] [comments]
Awakening to the smell of freshly fried eggs and sizzling bacon was the highlight of the day. I felt as if I could hover across the house like an old cartoon character following the smells. I stepped down the stairs, a content smile brandished across my face. I shrugged as I walked past the minor black mold that started to creep in under the door and waved hello at my family, sitting around the circular dining table. You said that you loved me, and handed me a cup of coffee. It was brown and hot, the aroma of which filled my senses. I sipped it slowly as I listened to my children tell me about their fanatical dreams.
Charles, my oldest, was nearing seventeen, had started to dream up strange dreams that bordered on nightmares. He told me of the times he was standing on a golden sand beach with a singular palm tree beside him. In front of him was a wall, a wall of water that peaked past the clouds. It was as if it was a curtain for the very sky. Atop the peak of the curtain was the raging white rapids of a stirring sea… yet the water did not move. It stayed stationary as Charles slowly made a sand castle from the golden sand. Content even in the face of annihilation.
Debra, nearly fourteen, told of her dream. She described a beautiful green oasis within a pit of sand, from which she slid down from the dunes above. Within, she saw various things and beings that sprouted coral like protrusions across their bodies. It would’ve frightened her, had it not been a dream, and they were kind. They spoke to her, of which Debra only remembered a little about. She said they were from a village, one of which they were exiled from. When Debra asked why, she was met with an apathetic shrug, and a word. “Unlucky.” She said the dream continued, from which they had a lovely time. Unfortunate strangers left to be kind to other unfortunates.
Finally, Timmy, my youngest who had reached the age of twelve just a few months prior, told of his dream. He said it was simple, a simple room, with a simple sound. The gentle tings and tongs of a wind chime outside of a window. The room around him was gray and ascetic, as if unlived in. He said that in this dream, he would only stare at the wind chimes, as they slowly rang him a tune. Enjoyment through the dull.
I smiled in interest at each of their retellings. It was a wondrous thing, human imagination. Before long however, the clock struck thirty past nine and work called to me. I pulled my tie ready and lifted the brown suitcase that I brought to work everyday. I stepped outside to the evergreen plastic lawn, and the ideal American suburb. White walled homes with gable rooftops, lawns of grass, and sprinklers wasting the water.
I waved hello at the neighbors, and they waved back. Responses that remained static throughout the past ten years of living here. Stability is good though, I thought to myself.
Half an hour later, I found myself at the office of my work, typing away at the cheap plastic keyboard as lights flickered on the monitor, the slow whirr of the office filled my ears. The chatter of the workplace felt off, where I’d expect a chuckle from a distant corner of the office, I heard only drawn out sighs. Near the front of the office, my manager sat behind closed shutters, perhaps he knew if something was wrong. I pressed down on a button underneath the monitor screen and it shut off with a dull beep. I walked towards my manager’s office, passing a few grim frowns from my coworkers.
I knocked on the door, through the closed shutters I could see a small peek of my manager, where he sat with his head in his arms. I knocked again and he raised his head, “Come in.” his voice was slurred.
I walked in and could immediately tell he was hungover, or perhaps even drunk. His usually well-kept hair was a tangled frizzy mess. This was the first sign. He talked to me with somber words. I don’t remember what he said exactly, but he spoke about the business and how it was failing. He lifted a piece of dead coral he had on his desk, I assumed it was a paper weight of sorts. He sighed to it and asked me to leave.
I returned to my desk with the same grim expression the rest of my coworkers held. Jobs were getting more difficult to obtain, and I could hear it from the grapevines and newspapers. I used the work phone to make a call to you, I told you about the situation, and you understood.
At least, I thought you did.
When I returned home from the long workday, the phone had a message from the office. I was let go over the phone, it came so suddenly; I had a hard time believing at first. I didn’t lose face in front of the children, I just had to find a new job.
Charles and Debra had put Timmy to bed, they were observant and smart kids. They knew something was wrong.
Charles was the first to ask, “What’s wrong?” He asked me. Debra grew the same worried look that Charles had.
I didn’t know what to tell them at first, it was my responsibility as a parent to take care of them. I had to keep up that image of stability, I’d find a job soon enough. I waved their question away, I knew they weren’t content with my answer.
By the time I got around to eating dinner, it was cold. It’s not that important to mention, but it’s just another straw to the ever burdened camel. We talked over the cold dinner, just you and me.
“What are you going to do?” You asked me, I couldn’t look into your eyes. I felt the tinge of disappointment in your words. It was unfair.
“I’ll find a new job, there’s another place, up a bit into the city, not much longer of a commute…” I said, you said something in response, something about your parents. I didn’t want to be co-dependant. I said it was off the table. We weren’t poor. We had enough money to pay the mortgage for six months, eleven thousand dollars in savings. You said okay, I knew you had malice in your voice.
We ate in silence, just you and me. I wish I could have a meal with you again.
The next morning, Debra had come down with something bad. High temperature, disorientation, and molted skin. You let Charles take Timmy to school, and we went to the hospital with Debra together. They said it was sepsis.
She wouldn’t make it if she didn’t get treatment immediately, so we said yes to everything they told us. I was by her bedside that night, listening to the cold quiet breeze that flowed in.
She spoke to me, slowly, “Dad.” I nodded to her. She said kind things to me, supportive, good-natured words. Then she told me about her dream the previous night.
She described it to me in her fatigued state. Debra returned to that oasis, where she met the coral men. She waved at them and they did not seem to recognize her. They let her in with open arms nonetheless. She said they spoke to her about trust, and how she needs to trust you.
You.
Trust you.
I didn’t hear the rest of her dream. She slept with Charles and Timmy by her side in that hospital that night. I had no idea where you went. The next morning, she went into shock. You got there an hour later, frantically pushing the nurses and doctors to the side. You were shouting her name.
She was fine. The treatments worked and Debra recovered. The doctors said it was a thirty to forty percent mortality rate, and you weren’t there. We fought in the lobby, do you remember that? I do.
The hospital always made me queasy. Knowing that the injured and ill filled every crevice of the building made my skin itch to the bone. I had gone there between my job hunts to visit Debra. Charles and Timmy were worried sick about her, I spoke to Timmy out in the hallway. He asked me where you were, if I had known what I knew now, I would’ve never said anything. I gave him your number and said he could call you. Charles called you too, and I returned to Debra’s side. She was still in a fatigued state, her mind clouded. She would repeat a few of the same phrases about her dream.
“Friendly wants to meet you.”
“They’re so kind, and strange.”
“I want their face.”
Something creeped me out about the last phrase, and how’d she repeat it while closing her eyes. I went to the front desk an hour later, and asked for the current bill.
It was eight thousand dollars, I knew I had eleven thousand dollars in our account. I knew it, I double checked it that morning and I did the math on how many months I could pay on our mortgage.
So why was the bill declined? Why was it that when I called the bank, they told me I had only ten dollars and twenty-six cents left in the account? I told the clerk I’d pay later and walked back into Debra’s room. I looked at her, softly fading away, I wondered if she’d ever fully recover from the sepsis. I knew everyday she stayed meant a few thousand dollars more in debt. Her oxygen line was on the floor, I guess back then safety wasn’t such a big concern. I looked into her eyes, I didn’t see my daughter. I saw a codependent person fading away. My foot found it’s way over the oxygen line, my heel to the ground with the front of my foot hovering just over the line.
Debra turned to face me, “They will meet… they know my caretaker.” I didn’t know she was talking about you, at the time. It was enough to get me to move my foot away. I walked to meet Charles, who was standing outside, leaning against the wall of the hospital with Timmy.
“How is Debra?” Charles asked. He was genuine, a good kid. Too good.
I told him she was fine, and if he’s seen you anywhere. He shrugged, and he lied to my face. “She didn’t tell me anything.”
No, Charles and you spoke for far too long for you to have said nothing to him. Why would he lie?
I asked him again, calmly.
Charles raised his hands up to his sides, “Don’t know. What’s your plan for a job? She told us you got fired. Maybe that’s why she left.”
Something started to stir in me, from that question. “Please mind what you’re saying.” I said back to him.
He was a teenager though, so he continued his speech, “You’ve been out of a job for all of three days, and she already left. There had to be something else going on.” A noise started in my mind, like a crescendo to an opera performance, rising orchestral tension.
“No.” I stuttered, my hands were shaking. “There was nothing else.” Charles wasn’t content with my answer, he sighed and whipped his head to the side. He said something along the lines of how much of a failure I’ve become.
I looked down at Timmy. I asked Timmy to walk away. He did, like a good kid.
Charles started to walk too, I grabbed his wrist. You know that feeling? That feeling that some parents have that makes you just want to… teach your kid a lesson? I’ve tried to type this section out in more detail, several times, but I’m now electing to omit it.
I strangled Charles. I did. He coughed, wheezed and struggled in my hands. His kick to my shin made me let him go. A second later I recognized what I had done, and fell to my knees in front of him.
I was killing my son, why?
He shouted something at me, but I had gone deaf, trapped in my own mind. He snapped at me and grabbed me by my shirt, forcing me to focus on him. We cried together, breaking down our emotional walls to expose to each other what we were feeling. I felt that I was disappointing my entire family, that I was a failure. I didn’t mention what I almost did to Debra.
It’s only been three days, what’s going on?
Later that evening, I drove Timmy and Charles back home. That’s where you come in. You were slumped over the dining room table, a glass of red wine to one side and a disconnected landline to your other side. I came in shouting at you, asking— no, demanding, what happened to the money.
You mumbled something, and tipped the glass over. I asked again and you yelled at me. Charles was quick to take your side, maybe he didn’t hear what I said and just heard me shouting.
“Leave her alone!” He yelled. I balled my fists in anger and shouted again. You stood up out of the chair and threw the glass across the room, it shattered into pieces. I pointed at the door, poor Timmy was so terrified. You scared him so much.
You walked out of the house, that was the last time I ever saw you. When you shut that door behind you, I felt a wave of relief, despair, and loneliness. On the counter, I noticed you left behind a piece of dried coral. It was covered in swirls, gray and dead. Hard as stone yet I could crumble bits of the facade with a hard enough press. I needed to talk to Debra.
Charles and Timmy elected to stay at home, I let them. I would visit Debra myself, driving the car that evening through the lonely highway as my heart beat raced. I kept thinking to myself, replaying every situation in my head, thinking about what was the smart choice.
I found myself at the hospital again, I still wished I never went inside. The clerk at the front office was kind as always. She could tell something was off about me too as I walked to Debra’s room. The window into the room was stained, a speckle of red. It didn’t concern me at first— stepping inside the room showed me something much worse.
I know what they told you, they told you that I did it, and what I’ve told you so far will make it sound like I had the reason to do it but I didn’t. I didn't do it. Did you? Did you? Who did? Was it you? Was it them?
Debra laid in that hospital bed, at first I thought her face had been caved in. I ran to her, grabbing her hand. I was close enough to see what really happened. Her left hand was clutching a medical scalpel, it was covered in dried dead coral. Like someone left it in the ocean for a few decades for the sea to manifest upon it. Remembering her face now is difficult, not because my memory is poor, but just… how it was.
Her face’s skin was upside down. A thin bloody line from the top to the bottom marked a large oval frame of her face. It was as if someone picked up that oval and just turned it around. I could see her eyes behind her cut off lips. Behind her eye sockets were her white teeth, cracked and covered in sea growth. Blood spilled from her ears, eyes, nose, and mouth, gently pooling in her bed. The mouth of hers was twisted and curled, in such a large smile that it was unnatural. I placed my hand to her cold cheek, and I cried. Darcy, I cried, is that not enough? Even after all this time, I remember exactly how her face felt. Like cold meat from the freezer, none of the warmth that she once had. The nurse came in a few minutes after me, or maybe a few seconds. I don’t recall. The nurse restrained me, screamed, and soon enough I was escorted out of the building where dozens of the red and blue had parked up by the front. Flashes of her face kept assaulting my mind, the twisted smile, the teeth behind her eye sockets, the feel of her skin. Debra didn’t deserve this, yet, that smile, it was like she had joy before…
The police had me in one of their cars, and I was taken to the station. My eyes and cheeks covered in dried tears, and my hands in blood. They didn’t arrest me, but their questions were numb to me, I wasn’t in the state of mind to answer them and they let me go a few hours later. I collapsed on the sidewalk outside of the station, curled into a fetal position, crying. One of the policemen came outside to talk to me. I remember him, his voice was uncaring and cold.
“You can’t be out here like that.” He said, or something to that effect. I ignored him, and he dragged me off of the sidewalk and into the lot of the station. I asked him through my broken voice to call for Charles, my son. He agreed and returned to the station. My mind started to drift, and wander, as if it was swimming through a ravine. Rocks on either side of my mind, threatening to poke and scratch me if I diverged from the path before me. I started to dream, there upon the lot of the station.
I remember my own nightmare vividly.
A towering being stood within a sand-encircled oasis. It was hundreds of meters tall, the ankles of the being were at the height of the oasis’s trees. I stood before it, atop the dunes that surrounded the oasis. Long strands of hair, thick as trees, flowed from the skull of the being down to the exposed rib cage. The sun was behind the being, but even then, I could see the coral protrusions from every bit of the skin it had. Twisted and curled, dotted and maze-like, the coral flowed throughout the entirety of the being as it held its head in a bowed state. It was the very definition of colossal, like the sea, and the waters it held.
I walked from the dunes towards the oasis, as if the being was calling my name. Within the oasis, there were two figures facing away from me. Both were women, from their silhouettes, a tall one, and a shorter one. I could see that their hands and arms were covered in a similar coral growth that I started to see everywhere.
As I stepped forward, I recognized the figures, it was you. You and Debra. The figures turned to face me, Debra’s face was the same as I last saw it. Twisted, curled, spiraling, evil. Her smile, arcing from the middle of both sides of her face up to an apex at the top of her head opened slightly. Your face was… You know what your face was. You talked to me.
“What are you talking about?” You said to me, I was confused at first, as I hadn’t said anything. I kept my eyes fixed on Debra. I asked you what you meant.
“Psycho. Where’s Timmy!” You shouted at me, I looked at you, your face changed. It would be blank, if not for the dozens of holes in a neatly arranged grid covering your entire face. Every one of them beckoned my gaze, and the sense of vertigo felt as if I was falling. Your face, I know now that it was resembling a phone’s speaker.
I responded, slowly, freezing up in terror as my gaze darted between the two of you, “I.. I don’t know.” I closed my eyes, I could feel the heat of the oasis fade, and the cool breeze returned around me. I felt a hand shake my shoulder and I opened my eyes. A policeman was standing next to me, holding a cellphone to my ear, he snapped his fingers in front of my eyes.
You yelled at me again, through the phone, “What the fuck did you do to Debra?” I felt pleasant though, hearing your voice. Even if it was a yell. The policeman removed the phone from my ear before I could respond, he pressed down on a button and your voice disappeared.
“Some wife, huh?” He chuckled to himself as he held the large phone in his hand. His words hurt. He continued to speak, “Debra… that’s the dead kid from the hospital, yeah?” He narrowed his eyes at me and grabbed my shoulder. He told me to come with him.
I was in a trance-like state from that point, like the environment around me shifted with me in place. One moment, I was at the booking station, the next, the jail cell. They threw me in with a new set of gray dull overalls. Around me, gray concrete, and a singular window. I leaned my head against the wall, staring out into the window. I was tired. My vision blurred and my mind felt as if it was turning on and off, alternating every other moment. I could only smell the bit of blood that remained on my skin and the metal aroma that arose from the bars of the cell. I focused outside, out into the window. A wind chime hung from something outside, slowly drifting around in the breeze. I listened to the gentle melody it played as I started to slowly hit my head against the prison wall.
I awoke to the sunlight against my eyes, I was laying on the hard concrete floor. Every joint in my body ached and felt exhausted. My vision was blurry, but I could see something new in the corner of my cell. It was coral, sharp and jagged, spiral patterns decorated its skin and it was alive. It was a shade of yellow, blue, and green— the air felt thick and heavy— as if I was breathing the ocean itself. I started to cough. A policeman approached my cell, he slammed on the bars with his baton and yelled at me. Then he saw the coral, and he fell.
Then another policeman came.
And another.
They learned eventually. Now three policemen laid, dead, at the foot of the cell. I kept my gaze at the coral. Watching it grow with my own eyes as it reaches out towards me. The swirls and twists of it slowly morphed on the surface. Slowly it molded into Debra’s twisted face. Sour and angry, her smile turned to a frown, two pale eyeballs peeked from behind the lips.
I crawled away from it and reached my hand through the cell, tearing a pair of keys from one of the dead policemen.
The coral came closer, stretching and bending as if it was the joints of a rotting corpse.
I jammed the key into the cell lock from the outside and managed to unlock it. I slammed the door against the corpses and stumbled out of the cell. I slammed out the front door of the station.
Flashlights beamed into my eyes as I could hear frantic shouting from the policemen outside. I shut my eyes and collapsed on the steps of the station. A moment later all I heard was silence. When I opened my eyes, I saw all the policemen twisted and curved, like coral. Spirals across their skin and their faces moved to other parts of their body. One’s mouth had shifted all the way to their hand. I called out for help, if anyone could help. I looked down at my hands and noticed I was holding a scalpel, a scalpel covered in coral. I dropped it onto the floor, blood decorated its exterior.
I fell into another dream, there upon the front of the station.
I was back in the oasis, half a dozen new men were there, covered in coral growths and twisted limbs. Their faces were sinister, curled, like abominations. I watched as the colossal picked up one of the men and tore them apart. It roared, a roar that shook my very spine. It splattered the man onto its ribcage and turned its head toward another man. The colossal being was— absorbing them.
I knew what I had to do. I’m sorry for doing it, I hope you see now, there was a reason. It had to be stopped.
I slammed my head against the oasis floor and I awoke at the station’s front steps. The coral seeped out of the station, curling and twisted. There was commotion outside, but none seemed to notice me as I crawled away. The coral was following me, I could see it slowly inch by inch, twist its way toward me.
I found myself in one of the police cars, driving this time, seeking a way to end the coral safely, without hurting any more people. I remembered at home, I had a gun, kept underneath the bed. I took care not to speed, I didn’t want to hurt anyone else.
I didn’t want to hurt anyone else.
It wasn’t my intention.
I really didn’t mean to.
I stopped the car at home, I rushed inside, ran into our room and tore the place apart. I was frantic, I didn’t even notice them. The coral started to sprout from me, I could feel the calcium structures start to twist within my stomach. I tore apart the final drawer, the gun seemed to gleam at me.
I picked it up.
“Dad?”
Timmy. I turned to face him, the coral was spreading from my body. I remembered the colossal being, what it was doing. I fired the gun at him. It was a haze from then, I remember a scream… Charles’ scream. I shouted for him, yelling at him to come out. I could feel the coral splinter into every bone of my body tearing my flesh from within. My eyes grew bloodshot and my hand started to seize. I fired the gun throughout the house, again, and again. Charles fled outside, tripping on a piece of coral and slamming his chin into the concrete walkway. I pointed the gun at him as he desperately pleaded with his hands in the air and I shot him.
I turned the gun to myself, pain reverberated throughout my entire body. The coral sprouted from my shoulder, a curling bit of evil that twisted and wriggled. I pressed down on the trigger, and the gun’s hammer struck an empty chamber.
I screamed, I threw the gun onto the street and walked back into the house. Coral had grown all over the inside, so I reached the landline. I dialed you.
“Please send your message after the beep.” It chirped back to me.
I left the phone hanging and walked to our home office, passing by pictures of our family as the coral slowly grew over them. I collapsed in this chair, typing on the computer what had happened. I’m hoping by posting this… you would find it... and understand what happened.
You would understand.
2023.03.30 02:54 Embarrassed_Day7383 Light switch!!
I have a question for my fellow electricians, the other day I went to turn off my light and when I switched it to the off position, I heard a pop come from the switch box, I didn’t think much of it until I got back home and came to turn on the light and the lights did not want to work any more, my first thought was a tripped breaker I turned them all off and on and double check nothing was tripped, still no luck, i then thought maybe the switch somehow fried, so I bought a new switch and installed it and still no luck
Any thoughts or suggestions?
submitted by Embarrassed_Day7383 to electricians [link] [comments]
Any thoughts or suggestions?
2023.03.30 02:53 Fit-Toe4198 45% Off Hot Coffee Warmer Mug Heater: Electric Smart Beverage Cup Warmer Plate with Automatic Switch Gravity Sensor for Desk sr
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2023.03.30 02:49 grippinstone density training over time
Hi, Steve. Per your advice, I've started doing density finger hangs for increasing endurance and giving my tendons time to catch up with muscle development. My time frame for continuing this is for at least a year or two. What happens if I get to the point where I want to switch over to developing fast strength? I read in your book about the different kinds of muscle, with white for endurance, red for fast twitch and pink an adaptable middle type that can be recruited for either other type. Is this a one way process, where the converted muscle stays the way it adapts, or can it switch back? If it stays, what happens when a different stress is introduced? Is there more pink fiber that develops, which can then be modified per demand? Right now, this is just curiosity, with no chance I'll ever get to the point that I'm doing one-finger pullups, but is it possible to overdevelop endurance to the point that it hinders max strength?
A related question for tendons: from your book, stiffer cross-linked tendons develop in response to max strength stimulus, more elastic tendons from longer hangs. How do tendons respond to changes in the type of load they're subjected to? Do they essentially start over, or does the increased strength simply become more cross-linked and stiffer? Am I right in assuming that, like initial strengthening, the adaptation from elastic to stiffer takes quite a bit longer for tendons than the change in muscle fiber? Thanks in advance.
submitted by grippinstone to overcominggravity [link] [comments]
A related question for tendons: from your book, stiffer cross-linked tendons develop in response to max strength stimulus, more elastic tendons from longer hangs. How do tendons respond to changes in the type of load they're subjected to? Do they essentially start over, or does the increased strength simply become more cross-linked and stiffer? Am I right in assuming that, like initial strengthening, the adaptation from elastic to stiffer takes quite a bit longer for tendons than the change in muscle fiber? Thanks in advance.
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2023.03.30 02:43 Tron1LuvCarter Win 4 Carrying Case Option from Amazon
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