Yeah, as well as T-Rex ones. Awesome, especially if you got kids.
I just experienced a four hour PITA trying to replace a half-done-dancing headlight in my Focus. Scraped my hand up a bit struggling with the thing, because of little room to work plus a latch tab for some electrical unit right where the back of my hand needed to be.
So, then I dig out the old Haynes, and it tells me the owner’s manual is wrong (more precisely, contradicts it). The owner’s manual says to release the clip, pull the bulb out and disconnect it. Every other source says to disconnect the bulb, release the clip and pull the bulb out. (It also appears to be a slightly non-updated manual, since it shows a separate low beam, while my car has a single bulb.) Changing a headlight on my best friend’s Taurus took a quarter the time even though I had to use wrenches and pull the assembly.
So, up yours, Ford, I doubt I will ever trust your info again.
Soundly? I know you guys don’t use “proper blinds”, but what, you sleep with your eyes open?
That particular style isn’t something I’d use in the kind of place where the Sun is “that hot thing you hide from”, but it’s quite popular in gloomy areas. My living room is strawberry, the bedrooms are orange and copper, the hallway is baby blue. On those days when the only window from which I can see something other than grey is the kitchen’s I like looking at the walls. The bright colors are like a reminder that this bank of fog, too, shall pass.
Says bad words with you. I really hates it what that happens.
I’m so glad you have a semi-sane Tony. Mine wouldn’t have been nearly as polite. My Tony is hoarding again. We stopped in to see him over the weekend and he’s got a pile of empty dog food bags in the kitchen. I think this means that he’s stopped taking his meds which really sucks.
[quote=“Yllaria, post:238, topic:687431”]
Bless you. You prevented a lot of future suffering. /QUOTE]
Thank you. I don’t do this for praise. I do it to stop the suffering and killing. The collector was elderly and was taken to the hospital for evaluation during the ordeal. I’m not mad at her, she is mentally ill. I’m sad for the cats and I’m sad for her.
My rant: I just learned what happens when someone boils eggs so long that the water boils out of the pan. Its kinda ugly.
My beloved butthead who always valiantly tries to eat my cooking will probably be happy with my decision to not only stop driving until we’ve got my meds figured out, but to also stop cooking.
We once had the valve stop cutting off water, then discovered that the valve was MADE with the pipe attached to a solder point down in the floor. What idiot does THAT? Solution was get a second unit, remove valve assembly and put it in the first fixture. Good thing I knew where the main water cutoff for the condo was.
When we changed out the sinks in the bathrooms here, we discovered that there were no shut-off valves on any of the plumbing but the toilets - we had to shut the water off for the whole house for each fix We didn’t install cut-off valves ourselves, but the plumber did when he replaced the kitchen tap (for $500, for one hour’s work!).
I think I had a point when I started typing this. Old houses have all kinds of weird stuff?
Two years ago I wouldn’t have known what knob and tube wiring was. Now I can properly sympathize. Did she have some lengths that were spiral-wound with paper?
To the seniors who thought it would be funny to vandalize the whole school last night, it’s a damn good thing you didn’t screw up my daughter’s graduation. What a bunch of immature jerk-offs you are!! I’m glad they found out who you all are, so that all the seniors didn’t get punished for your stupid, selfish, and criminal behavior! :mad:
I suspect your problem might be fairly common, especially in cases when a model has been in production a long time with only minor changes. As an example, the first Grand Cherokee model (ZJ) was restyled in 1995, though not significantly enough for it to be given a new model designation. My '97’s manual has several descriptions and illustrations that clearly do not match the vehicle…for example, the steps listed in the manual for replacing the bulb in the center brake light are describing the style of the light assembly on a pre-1995 Grand Cherokee, not a '97.
Way back in the day, I had a 1974 Triumph Spitfire. I also had the pristine owners manual. The owners manual wasn’t pristine because the car didn’t break down, it was pristine because it was totally worthless.
It had a Lucas electrical system, which had very interesting problems. One time a friend in the auto business took me to buy a new battery. The nice clerk looked it up in the computer and brought one that I could see wouldn’t fit. I told clerk and friend that it wouldn’t fit. Clerk looked it up again and came up with the same results. Friend explained that the parts program pulled the required part number up because it was what the manufacture said. I told them once again that it wouldn’t fit, but I bought it anyhow. It didn’t fit. I made my friend go back and insist that the clerk exchange the new battery for the same model as the old one we had brought in.
Owners manuals lie and while Chilton’s Manuals are good…IMHO…nothing beats Utube. You can look at what they are doing and look at your ride and figure out if its a match.
Why is it so damn difficult for some people to load a dishwasher correctly? Modern washers have all sorts of cool innovations that pretty much spell out where everything is supposed to go for efficiency. Bowls go over here, small glasses can be double stacked over here, silverware goes there. So how come every time I open it up there’s a single spatula taking up 80% of the bottom tray or a pyrex pie dish lying flat on the top where all the bowls are supposed to go? It’s like she’s incapable of fitting more than 3 items into a dishwasher before she needs to run it.
I used to think that maybe her mother always did the dishes so she just never learned how to do it but then her mom stayed with us for a while and she does the same damn thing so apparently, it’s a hereditary condition.
I wouldn’t really mind if we weren’t in the middle of a huge drought and I feel compelled to unload everything and reload it every day just to save water.
Dear friend/acquaintance in my industry (arts education):
Every time you post on Facebook about how kids love you, and how lucky you are to work with such amazing talent, and how lucky you are to be able to have such a huge important impact on the kids in your community (well, the socially and economically privileged ones, anyway), and how you’re kind of like a mother, and how you try to own the successes of every kid who comes through your program, I want to throw up.
You do great work, but every kid you work with comes from a household that supports them, and can afford to have given them voice and dance lessons for years before they come to you, and they can afford to send these talented, trained kids to your program. These kids own their own success, as helped by their private lessons, public school teachers and coaches (ahem), as well as you. You make it all about you, and put down other educators who you judge below your level. You don’t get to claim these kids as your own; you don’t get to claim their skill as coming through you; you don’t get to claim some version of “motherhood.” They are not your kids, and you are one teeny tiny part of their education and community.
Love them, support them, be proud of them, but stop making it all about you.
They broke into the classrooms (with screwdrivers, damaging doors), dragged desks out and overturned them in the hallways, scattered glitter everywhere, wrote with glitter-glue on all the windows, urinated in at least one teacher’s wastebasket, hosed the choir room down with insect poison, set off a stink bomb, and I don’t know what all else. Apparently, the school was a complete disaster area yesterday morning. It must have been pretty bad, because other senior class pranks in past years included TPing the campus tree and releasing crickets in the classrooms, and no one even raised an eyebrow about that.
Until they identified the ones involved, the whole senior class was being punished–mainly by having exam exemptions voided. My daughter had actually helped one teacher prepare her exam, having been exempted from that one. I was so proud of her when I learned that she went to the office to tell them that they would have to prepare a different test for her in that class, because she had already seen the answers. Since all the guilty have been caught, though, all exemptions have been reinstated.
Old houses have all kinds of weird stuff?