toynbee

A game I played a lot with my dad was Pool. He had a full sized slate Pool table that he bought (along with a lawnmower) from a friend who was dying and he put it (the Pool table, not the mower) in a semi dedicated room in his basement. Every family member other than my mom (who was blind in one eye and thus lacked depth perception) loved engaging in the game.

There are a lot of things at which I lack talent, but Pool is not one of them; I'm better than average at it. My dad was better than I but, a few times, I won against him one-on-one. At least one of those times I accused him of letting me win. He said, and with the benefit of hindsight I believe, that he never "lets" anyone win.

He probably didn't try his hardest, but that's a fairly fine distinction.

Sure, but did you see that ludicrous display last night?

I recently ordered a wall adapter and the associated cable.

Amazon emailed me to confirm my order of two wireless items.

I dealt with that for eleven days before my friend bullied me into going to the doctor because "that's not normal." Now I have screws in my vertebrae and some very interesting scars.

In the comics, he did it not to fight scarcity but because he was in love with the character Death and wanted to impress her ... Or something like that.

Sometimes I accidentally press the function key on my work-mandated Mac.

For some reason, it brings up a window full of emoji. Cmd+w doesn't close it and cmd+q quits whatever application I actually wanted to be using.

I hate it.

My guest room has a rarely used toilet with a plastic, slow-close lid that is opened, at most, possibly twice a week. We recently had to replace it because it was very visibly moldy to a disgusting degree.

Thanks for the answer! Yeah, the backboard (or, alternatively, Reeves, according to another commenter) were what I was expecting - from popular media, not prior personal experience. For the ankle, in all honesty, my porch was only three steps off the ground and I had an EMT supporting both sides. The hopping sucked but it wasn't the worst part of the evening.

I just was amazed that calling for help with a (very badly, fwiw; I had tried to twist it back into place and stand on it twice before someone found me and recommended not doing that) broken ankle would result in three separate instances of me hopping around.

For the back surgery, they lead me to the prep area, told me to strip and wipe down any areas where my skin folded, then get in the stretcher. I didn't (knowingly) leave that stretcher for most of two days. However, at some point after I was recovered from the anesthesia I said "hey, wait a minute! This isn't the bed I was in before!" (The nurses thought that was pretty funny.) I guess they moved me at some point, but whether I was actively involved in the process I do not know.

Thank you for the information! The backboard or Reeves (though I didn't know the name) were pretty much what I expected. Once at the hospital, I expected them to move me using the linens of the bed / stretcher to transfer me between things. I've had a bunch of surgeries and, previously, that's what's been done once sedation started. (Most of them were not immediate injuries.)

When I broke my ankle and the EMTs came to my house to transport me, they made me hop down my front steps. They said that they couldn't get their stretcher up my stairs. I've always wondered, what if I had broken both ankles or was unconscious? It seems like that must happen and there must be ways to handle it.

Even if that's entirely reasonable, when we got to the hospital - literally designed for this and involving no stairs that I crossed - they made me get off of their stretcher, hop to a wheelchair, wait in it for a few hours, then get out of it and hop to a new stretcher, where they finally let me stay until I left the hospital.

At the hospital I go to now, I most recently went for a surgery on my back. Though it was painful, I was ambulatory; however, without me even asking the escorting nurse said "are you okay? Would you like a wheelchair?" for the relatively short walk from the entrance to the prep area. I declined but it was a far preferable experience. When they were testing whether I could walk afterwards the PT guy walked behind me with a wheelchair in case I fell. I didn't even notice him get it.

One last aside: where I now live, literally across the street from the aforementioned hospital, there's a small apartment building. I think you have to climb eight flights of stairs to get to the front porch, then presumably more if you're not on the entry level area. Most every time I drive past that place I feel grateful that's not where I broke my ankle.

I agree, it does look pretty fantastic!

Though, as others have observed, the way it's being employed is rather upsetting.

What makes you think I don't know any giants?