My hallway is shockingly dark when not lit, and the recessed light is so damn harsh I decided to install LED strips up in the corners. But I didn’t want to switch them, so the lights are motion controlled and conditional based on time. During the day, they’re full bright but with a nice color that’s not harsh. At night, only 6 leds light up a nice green so they don’t blast your eyes in the dark.

I have similar control over the kitchen lights but kept the recessed lighting in there. Full bright during the day, dimmed at night.

When the home alarm is triggered, all lights go full bright.

When the garage door is opened, the garage lights turn on.

When the temp in the living room is below 65 in the morning, or at noon, it kicks the heater on until it hits 70.

In the evening, when the outside temp falls below the inside temp, I get sent a message to open the windows. This only triggers in warm months because that crossover doesn’t happen in the cold months. It’s just always warmer inside than out. Similarly, in the mornings, when the temp outside becomes warmer than inside, I get an alert to close the windows. I use Aqara temp sensors on my front and back porches to grab the temps, so it’s very local and takes into account the radiant heat built up from the direct sunlight and works really well. This also has me thinking I might be able to work my contact sensors into the automations too…

I’ve got a contact sensor on my bedroom door to alert me if anyone enters while I’m not home.

My crawl space is encapsulated and I have a large dehumidifier down there. I have a smart switch connected to it so I can have some easy control and monitor power usage. I also have a temp and humidity sensor down there with alerts for if either temp or humidity change too much.

I set up LED lighting on my front porch and have HA turn it on an hour before sunset and off an hour after sunrise. I set it to different colors usually based on holidays, but have it set to a purple that I really like otherwise. Way less harsh than the white porch light.

And of course I can control nearly all the lights in my house from my phone or with Siri.

Having my hallway and kitchen lights be motion activated and brighter/dimmer based on ambient light is fucking great. If you get there you might wind up loving it like I do lol.

ADHD, major depressive disorder, and bipolar 2.

Yea. Tired. All the time.

Well, our trip was in March so that’s perfect!

Ah that all makes sense.

Cancellations in particular suck, and are one reason I don’t fly budget airlines when possible. It nearly ruined the trip for my friends when they couldn’t get a flight out that night and put a damper on my birthday weekend for sure. I might mention to them the policy you pasted and see if they want to do anything about the extra few hundred they spent.

Thanks for the informative and high effort reply too! Really appreciate it.

This is in the US? I had a few friends get fucked with last moment cancellations for my birthday trip to Vegas and the airlines didn’t do shit. One, Frontier, had to be strong armed to get them on another flight and still charged them the premium for the new flight.

Neither. I want it on the front, right in the center.

I struggled with this a lot when I got a roommate last year that’s paying rent.

I’ve come to terms with it recognizing that we are supporting each other. I’m supporting them by providing them a stable and affordable place to live, and they’re supporting me by helping me make ends meet, especially in a time when I’m unemployed. I’m not profiting off of them or taking a living space from another family. I also plan to calculate the portion of equity they contribute to the mortgage and give it to them whenever I wind up selling.

I’ve always appreciated people who rent out rooms or expand their homes to let people rent a private space with airbnb.

I also don’t think VRBO, home away, house trip, and other companies that support this business model get enough visibility in the criticism against the model.

No this totally makes sense to me.

It doesn’t impact my experience of the story, but there is something to having the next page hidden behind the turn and knowing that it’s right there. When I read an ebook it’s like reading an article. The sensation is different and it loses a touch of excitement without that tactile feeling of ‘the next page’. Pages don’t matter in ebooks either. You adjust the text size and the ‘page’ count is suddenly radically different. I measure my progress in chapters or percentages now.

It makes sense to me why that wouldn’t work for some folks.

I only read fiction, so I always buy it pirate ebooks unless there’s a special edition of something that I am really excited about. I’ve bought all of Brandon Sanderson’s mystery novels in hardcover for example, and I buy the Stormlight books hardcover as well. I’d love to have the entire cosmere in hardcover, or better yet their special edition leather bound hardcovers (for the ones he’s done it with), but it’s just too expansive and expensive to justify.

In an ideal world, a physical copy includes a digital copy.

I’ve got the hardcover for his new mystery novel ordered. Can’t wait for it to arrive and to read it.

And Brandon Sanderson, who wrapped the series after Jordan died and is an amazing author himself.

Lmao I love it. That’s a great story. Thanks for sharing!

lol yea. It’s a reversed copy pasta. The original story is from the SR71’s perspective. It’s pet great both ways.

Oh you haven’t seen this one? In jealous you are getting to read it for the first time today. It’s so good

There were a lot of things we couldn’t do in an Cessna 172, but we were some of the slowest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the 172. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane. Mundane, maybe. Even boring at times. But there was one day in our Cessna experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be some of the slowest guys out there, at least for a moment.

It occurred when my CFI and I were flying a training flight. We needed 40 hours in the plane to complete my training and attain PPL status. Somewhere over Colorado we had passed the 40 hour mark. We had made the turn back towards our home airport in a radius of a mile or two and the plane was performing flawlessly. My gauges were wired in the left seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because I would soon be flying as a true pilot, but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten months. Bumbling across the mountains 3,500 feet below us, I could only see the about 8 miles across the ground. I was, finally, after many humbling months of training and study, ahead of the plane.

I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for my CFI in the right seat. There he was, with nothing to do except watch me and monitor two different radios. This wasn’t really good practice for him at all. He’d been doing it for years. It had been difficult for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my this part of my flying career, I could handle it on my own. But it was part of the division of duties on this flight and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however. My CFI was so good at many things, but he couldn’t match my expertise at sounding awkward on the radios, a skill that had been roughly sharpened with years of listening to LiveATC.com where the slightest radio miscue was a daily occurrence. He understood that and allowed me that luxury.

Just to get a sense of what my CFI had to contend with, I pulled the radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him. The predominant radio chatter was from Denver Center, not far below us, controlling daily traffic in our sector. While they had us on their scope (for a good while, I might add), we were in uncontrolled airspace and normally would not talk to them unless we needed to ascend into their airspace.

We listened as the shaky voice of a lone SR-71 pilot asked Center for a readout of his ground speed. Center replied:“Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground.”

Now the thing to understand about Center controllers, was that whether they were talking to a rookie pilot in a Cessna, or to Air Force One, they always spoke in the exact same, calm, deep, professional, tone that made one feel important. I referred to it as the " Houston Center voice." I have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on this country’s space program and listening to the calm and distinct voice of the Houston controllers, that all other controllers since then wanted to sound like that, and that they basically did. And it didn’t matter what sector of the country we would be flying in, it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to pilots everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like Chuck Yeager, or at least like John Wayne. Better to die than sound bad on the radios.

Just moments after the SR-71’s inquiry, an F-18 piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his ground speed. “Dusty 52, Center, we have you at 620 on the ground.” Boy, I thought, the F-18 really must think he is dazzling his SR-71 brethren. Then out of the blue, a Twin Beech pilot out of an airport outside of Denver came up on frequency. You knew right away it was a Twin Beech driver because he sounded very cool on the radios. “Center, Beechcraft 173-Delta-Charlie ground speed check”. Before Center could reply, I’m thinking to myself, hey, that Beech probably has a ground speed indicator in that multi-thousand-dollar cockpit, so why is he asking Center for a readout? Then I got it, ol’ Delta-Charlie here is making sure that every military jock from Mount Whitney to the Mojave knows what true speed is. He’s the slowest dude in the valley today, and he just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having in his new bug-smasher. And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more distinct alliteration than emotion: “173-Delta-Charlie, Center, we have you at 90 knots on the ground.”

And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that my CFI was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done - in mere minutes we’ll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That Beechcraft must die, and die now. I thought about all of my training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn.

Somewhere, half a mile above Colorado, there was a pilot screaming inside his head. Then, I heard it. The click of the mic button from the right seat. That was the very moment that I knew my CFI and I had become a lifelong friends. Very professionally, and with no emotion, my CFI spoke: “Denver Center, Cessna 56-November-Sierra, can you give us a ground speed check?” There was no hesitation, and the replay came as if was an everyday request. “Cessna 56-November-Sierra, I show you at 76 knots, across the ground.”

I think it was the six knots that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that my CFI and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most CFI-like voice: “Ah, Center, much thanks, we’re showing closer to 72 on the money.”

For a moment my CFI was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the Houston Center voice, when Denver came back with, “Roger that November-Sierra, your E6B is probably more accurate than our state-of-the-art radar. You boys have a good one.”

It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable stroll across the west, the Navy had been owned, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Slow, and more importantly, my CFI and I had crossed the threshold of being BFFs. A fine day’s work. We never heard another transmission on that frequency all the way to our home airport.

For just one day, it truly was fun being the slowest guys out there.