2022.01.28 01:44 timmyturbo3000 How much is the “no dancing” rule followed at night clubs?
2022.01.28 01:44 floppyjabjab Those of you who have a career in the field of the path that you had to choose at young age, how did you know?
2022.01.28 01:44 PinkSteven Mr. Krabs is eventually going to leave the Krusty Krab to ______.
2022.01.28 01:44 Lenins2ndCat If the twitter tracking Musk's private jet is taken down I will personally start one here on GaP.
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2022.01.28 01:44 Character_Glove5745 Chill Music ~ 3 Hours Of Relaxing Piano Music To Put You In A Better Mood, Chillout, Relaxing Music
|submitted by Character_Glove5745 to RelaxingGifs [link] [comments]|
2022.01.28 01:44 BLUEePR Glass painting I made of her adorable smile for Etsy
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2022.01.28 01:44 wutwutwatwut ULPT REQUEST: buy Twitter followers with good retention
2022.01.28 01:44 ihategaming123 Hey guys, I'm new to Skyrim Modding. How can I fix the microstutter when using ENB (Re-Engaged)?
I'm using the ultimate version (best image), my specs are RTX 3070/3600/16GB. I'm playing on a 60hz monitor and FPS fluctuates between 59 - 60 FPS, ENB has v-sync and fps lock on. Any idea? It's a very small stutter but its so annoying.
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2022.01.28 01:44 cluelesstechie123 Any good resume for experienced devs?
Before this post gets flagged for easily searchable. I actually couldn't find one which worked for me so far. I'm 6 YOE and I hardly get calls from big players not just FAANG even normal big startups or companies. Most of the calls I get from are small startups or medium scale companies so I'm trying to fix it this time. I want atleast a call back when I apply for a big company.
So I was wondering if anyone has any recommendations?
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2022.01.28 01:44 throwaway7uvufuduf Feeling bad abt art after 1st post online attracted the wrong audience (only got likes from kids under the age of 12) How can I improve?
|submitted by throwaway7uvufuduf to ArtCrit [link] [comments]|
2022.01.28 01:44 Original-Baki The End of Frog Nation 🐸 🤡
2022.01.28 01:44 SUS-STEPBRO When Alpha puts the glasses on
|submitted by SUS-STEPBRO to AlfaOxtrot [link] [comments]|
2022.01.28 01:44 lovemeorhatehim You're out abolishwork.
|submitted by lovemeorhatehim to raimimemes [link] [comments]|
2022.01.28 01:44 cuckfromJTown Give a man a diaper and he'll shit for a day. Teach a man to use a toilet and he'll shit for the rest of his life.
2022.01.28 01:44 _Abnormalia What do you think on such mechanics?
|submitted by _Abnormalia to SteamVR [link] [comments]|
2022.01.28 01:44 clip_mirror_bot Daily dose of Realness
|submitted by clip_mirror_bot to livestreamfail_mirror [link] [comments]|
2022.01.28 01:44 ace_tsunami The camera has a certain appeal.
|submitted by ace_tsunami to Animemes [link] [comments]|
2022.01.28 01:44 Unit256 Something Is Happening at The Nursing Home I Work At
Before all of this happened, I lived a normal life. I had normal dreams like most girls do. Since my earliest days, I always saw myself as some sort of caretaker. Then I realized my true passion. I wanted to become a nurse. Some people tried to dissuade me from this, but I always knew it would be the job that was right for me. Interacting with the patients was one of the best feelings ever. I always thoroughly enjoyed everything. Talking people up to brighten their day when unexpected medical things happened, helping them get over their fears, and just all of the great environment that my coworkers made as well. We didn't really have a lot of issues in the early days like we do now. When things picked up during the pandemic, it got a little bit crazier.
We had equipment and all kinds of supply shortages. People quit due to a variety of reasons, which put a big strain on those who stayed behind. I don’t blame the nurses and doctors for leaving the hospital though. I more blamed the administrators. It really wasn't the best environment in this large hospital that I worked at. I don't wanna give away the name, but management was not the best. Hospital administrators micromanaged everything even though they had no medical training themselves.
Eventually, I got sick and tired. Like many of my other coworkers, I walked out. Most healthcare places requested you give at least a 60-day notice before quitting so they can find a replacement in this tight labor market. It's in all the contracts but I had had enough. I was not staying there any longer to suffer the abuse. Like I said, it was not the patients but the administrators.
Of course, this meant that I would probably be blacklisted when it came to looking for another hospital job. I was willing to accept that risk just to get away from a toxic workplace environment. I was in an advantageous position at the time and had a little financial cushion to weather the storm at least for a short while.
Soon I would have to find a new job. I knew that it would be a tough sell to get back into any local hospitals with the blacklist mark.
Eventually, my friend told me about a job she had just left at a nursing home. She said she could put in a good word for me. My friend’s glowing recommendation did indeed help me get the job. She had a bit of a reputation there, paving the way for me to slide in despite the blacklist. The interview process was a little hostile, harking back to my bad experiences in the hospital job I had left not too long ago. I had to ignore the red flags though. The bills were piling up and I needed to start bringing in income ASAP. This may not have been the best-case scenario, but it’s what I had to work with at the time.
“Our patients are the dearest things to us. They each come with their own unique personalities and require the best care practices,” the director told me.
There was always something sleazy about healthcare administrators. What exactly did they administrate? They acted like they cared, but not enough to be in the trenches with the providers. They were too busy bean counting and forming informal “murder boards” that they called “budget meetings” and “resource syncs.” If you can’t tell, I don’t have the highest opinion of them. At the hospital, it made sense to have a sizable number of them there, I guess, because of how big the operation was, but here it didn’t. There were 50 beds for assisted living and 20 for hospice. This place had about 5 administrators. I thought we could do with one and if I had it my way, it wouldn’t be this one.
The rest of the “interview” was more a speech about how awesome the facility was. It was pretty one-sided. At the end of it, the guy says to me “So are you interested in taking the job?” I was amazed. It’s usually the other way around. This did raise some red flags, but it was okay. They needed someone and I needed the pay.
I started the following Monday. A chipper head nurse named Dianne met me and gave me the orientation. We toured the building while she gave me a brief history. Then we went into facility operations.
“Our patients are the dearest things to us. They each come with their own unique personalities and require the best care practices,” she started.
Stop me if you’ve heard this one, I joked in my head. This was beginning to sound like a cult with how much the employees loved the place (the lead staff at least).
Not long after, I started shadowing her and a few other nurses on rounds with the patients. It was a pretty straightforward job. There are four categories when it comes to patients when it comes to these kinds of places. This isn’t a formal thing but more of something I do in my head to keep track of how much attention to give them.
The first and best are the people who are fully alert and generally happy campers. The only reason they are there is because they can no longer live by themselves. Despite the loss of independence, most were happy to be social and carry on as best they could in the confines of the nursing home.
The second were people who were alert and aware but were not happy campers. They made life miserable for a lot of the staff. Refusing to take medicine, throwing food, and, for the more enterprising, there were even some who enjoyed soiling themselves for the joy of watching someone else clean it. I didn’t know old people could be so twisted until I started working here.
The third are people who are extremely sick and are dealing with much more than just loss of independence. They’re on their way to the Hereon and nothing can stop or delay it. You’ll find all kind of emotions among these patients. Some are accepting and some are…. not. It’s part of the stages of dying.
The last category I’ll mention is the listless. For lack of a better word, they are human vegetables. Some may be in comatose states; some may go in and out of consciousness for long bouts of time. You would swear some of these people are dead if not for the faintest rise and fall of the chest. Sometimes you could see a flicker of their eyes when their eyelids were closed. It was always a bit creepy to me and downright sad. There is nothing you can do for these people.
After I settled into my routine, I came to favor the last category. They were easy. No fussing or fighting. You pushed fluids through their feeding tube, changed diapers, and cleaned up a bit. Usually, these people were all but abandoned by their family. This was made extra sad by the research that says people in this state can sometimes be aware of their surroundings right up until the point of death. Their hearing is intact, and they can form a general idea about what is happening but can’t communicate with the world at large. The thought terrified me. It’s like being awake during surgery but having enough anesthesia to not be able to call for help. Sleep paralysis also comes to mind. If I have my way, I’ll be able to avoid all of those in my life.
Given they may be able to hear, I would always talk to them and explain what I was doing. I never knew if that had an effect on them in any way. I joked in my head sometimes that I thought I might be given them some mental stimulation through social interaction, but they were probably cursing me out and demanding I leave in their heads despite not being able to say it so blatantly like the category 2 people.
One of my favorite people to visit was Mrs. Jacobs. She was a rail-thin old lady who had been in this sort of state for close to 10 years. No one ever came around to visit her from her family. There was an old card that sat on her bedside table. When I read it, it was dated 15 years ago. It made me question how long she had been in here. Was she really spending 20% of her life in this place?? Anyways, I would sometimes come into her room and just talk. I didn’t like using the breakroom in the facility. I always felt like someone was snooping around and listening to conversations to get dirt on me. I chose to kind of be aloof here. It didn’t help my reputation to hang out with living zombies (no offense) instead of my coworkers.
I’d talk to Mrs. Jacobs about all kinds of random things from my cat to my desire to finally pay off my student debts. All kinds of mundane stuff. I tend to talk too much sometimes. (Maybe you’ve noticed here.) She would just continue to lay there. No response. No growls or grunts. No “that’s crazy” to signify that she was no longer interested in the conversation. That’s what made her the best conversationalist for an introvert like me. Most nurses aren’t introverts and love to talk. I’m not the biggest fan, despite liking my interactions with the patients.
Sitting bedside with Mrs. Jacobs made me question a lot about my own life and how I was spending it working in a job I hated. One day, I’d be a vegetable lying on a bed, trapped in my fleshy prison and forced to listen to some random woman talk her head off without me being able to tell her to shut up.
The weeks eked by and then began to pass by faster and faster as I fell into the routine. Once again, we were hit by a wave of people resigning and leaving for assorted reasons. Dianne called me into her office one day after we had about 3 people quit.
“I need you in the night shift. We only have two people there and they need to be switched out. They’ve been there too long- way longer than what we usually like. We’ll cycle you back to days after a couple of weeks.”
I was not happy about this. This isn’t what I signed up for and no one had ever mentioned the whole doing cycles on the night shift during my interviewing and onboarding process. The way Dianne talked, this was a regular thing. My worst fear was that I would be stuck there in purgatory for longer than two weeks like the people I was replacing. If I could have, I would have quit then, but I was just getting back on my feet financially after the long bout of unemployment from leaving the hospital.
I managed a gritted teeth smile and got read into what was needed for night shift. It was sold to me as something easier than day shift because the patients would be sleeping the majority of the time. One of the outgoing nurses let me know she used the time to go to some online college classes.
Good for her, I thought. I’ll probably use the time reading and playing around online.
One week came and went without incident. Beginning of the second week, I was called in by Dianne again.
“We need to extend you by a month.”
I was floored. I denied it instantly. Absolutely not. My resistance was in vain though. There was no budging. Dianne seemed genuinely sorry about the situation, but we were hemorrhaging help for some reason. I really started wondering if we’re losing this many people, then was I making a mistake by staying here.
One night, I was about to get extra linen in a room, and I sneezed. From behind me, clear as day, I heard “Bless you.” The feeling of it was as if I was about to start a prayer and to my surprise… a voice whispered near my ear “Our Father in heaven...” I turned around. It was a male voice and the only other nurse on the night shift with me was a female. I looked around the room and didn’t see anyone. I waited a second to see if someone was going to burst into laughter from the hallway. Maybe they projected their voice really well despite it sounding like it was right in my ear. I quickly tried to put it out of my mind. I had a job to do and didn’t want to dwell on what it could or could not be. This was the first incident of something happening and could easily be attributed to my lack of sleep. That’s the crazy thing about the night shift. No one ever gets their sleep schedule back. It doesn’t just push forward a few hours forward like your work schedule did.
The next night, it was a noticeably quiet and peaceful at 3 am. While I was doing simple floor rounds, I felt something behind me, turned around and saw a shadowy girly figure wearing a hospital gown run into a resident’s room. I wasn’t terrified at all, partly because my mind wasn’t fully registering what happened yet. I entered the room and the resident in the room was up (an Alzheimer’s patient) and she said, “Did you see that?”
The resident said, “She went in there (pointing to the closed bathroom). I waited a bit and called for help to insure it wasn’t an intruder and the unit was clear. To this day I can’t explain it but know what I saw and oddly enough what my patient saw despite her mental status. The other nurse on shift with me checked it out while I stood beside the door. The other nurse saw nothing in the bathroom and figured I was playing a joke on her as a relief from the quiet night. I assured her I wasn’t. The Alzheimer’s patient backed me up and started talking frantically about the young girl. She spoke rapidly and started flailing her arms while trying to get out of bed but was too weak and tired and almost fell back.
“Mrs. Bosch, you have to be careful. We just checked in there. No one is there.”
“But her eyes,” Mrs. Bosch said. “They were pure black!” She went into another tirade and the nurse patiently but firmly assuaged her between shooting piercing glances toward my way. I had already not made friends on the day shift and now was making mad the only other person on shift with me now.
We walked out of the room and closed the door despite the protests of Mrs. Bosch. It was clear she was not going to calm down for a while and we didn’t want the noise to wake the other residents. Three seconds after closing the door, we heard a terrifying scream. It was not Mrs. Bosch’s voice. The other nurse and I charged in. Mrs. Bosch was not in her bed and the window was wide open letting in gusts of icy wind. I ran over to the window and looked out to see if the girl who was just there was running away to get away with her prank. I needed to prove to the other nurse that I wasn’t making it up.
What I saw instead was Mrs. Bosch sitting cross legged in the middle of the courtyard lawn. I jumped out the window and ran toward her. She sat staring straight ahead.
“Mrs. Bosch, we have to get you inside now. It’s way too cold to be out here.”
No response. “Mrs. Bosch,” I repeated. I bent down to look at her face and froze for a minute. Her eyes were pure black, glossy and reflective like a giant bug. They were so shiny I could see my reflection despite the dark hue of the night. Her head slowly turned toward me and once again let out a high-pitched yell that I did not recognize as her voice. I fell backward in fear and shock. When I hit the ground, she stopped screaming and continued to face forward. The other nurse was making her way over by this time. She grabbed Mrs. Bosch by the upper arm and pulled her to her feet without negotiation. As soon as the other nurse touched Mrs. Bosch, the black glint disappeared, and I saw a bewildered look in her eyes.
Mrs. Bosch looked terrified. She was never the same after the incident. Where she used to be in the first category, she quickly turned into the second category. Getting grouchier and grouchier for a few days after, we actually received a complaint from family members asking what we did to their mother. They claimed we must have abused her in some way to make her personality change so dramatically in so short a time. They threatened to pull her out of our facility, but then she went catatonic. Mrs. Bosch matched the personality of Mrs. Jacobs soon enough and joined the ranks of the human vegetables. I was saddened by this turn of events since Mrs. Bosch was one of the most chipper of the residents. It brightened my day to see her and within the scope of four days, she was as good as a pillow on the bed.
After just two weeks, I was begging to get off the night shift. When pressed about why, I didn’t have much of a good reason besides I didn’t like it. There was no way I was going to explain the whole thing about Mrs. Bosch, the black eyes, and the imaginary girl who ran into the bathroom. Dianne did promise some change.
The change came in the switching of nurses. The other one had complained about me that night and been granted a transfer back to day shift. The newest nurse on night shift, Lauren, was not happy about this at all.
“I have two kids. I don’t belong on night shift,” she announced on the first night of us working together.
I recognized that my initial voluntary alienation was quickly turning into an involuntary one fast.
A few days later, doing my rounds, I saw an old lady dressed in a hospital’s gown. This was not an uncommon site for some of our sicklier patients but usually those people were too ill to be walking around with the fluidity of this person. Thinking that the patient was lost or couldn’t sleep, I signaled her from afar (we’re at the opposite ends of the hallway) to ask what’s wrong. Grabbing her attention, she turned her face to me, smiled and passed through a wall into a patient’s room! I froze from what I saw.
This time, I wasn’t taking the bait. I would just ignore it and move on with my life. My new involuntary night crew mate would not appreciate me telling her about a ghost roaming the hallway so early in our working relationship.
There was one last event I think I should mention here before talking about the final straw. I was checking on a patient who was a nun during my morning changeover as part of my final rounds. We have a secure building due to the vulnerability of the patients. You have to key to come in and out. Visiting family members have to be keyed in after calling over the door speaker and then have to check in at the front desk with a nurse before going on to their loved one’s room. While I was in the room with the nun, Mother Melinda, a group of other nuns entered the room. They established a wall around Mother Melinda and began whispering frantically. This was weird for several reasons. First, we only allowed a max of two visitors per patient at a time because of the pandemic restrictions. There was at least nine here. Second, these nuns moved with an unhuman rigidity, even for a group as stiff as a religious convent. The frantic whispers exploded into deafening song.
The Ambrosian chanting was sure to bring up attention from all the nurses. I waited for someone else to storm in demanding the noise cease, but no one came. I looked out the open door where the group had walked in. Instead of seeing the typical bustling nurses rushing from one room to another down the hall, I saw a black abyss. I looked out the window. At some point, the morning light that was barely creeping in at this time was completely gone. The window was as black as the threshold of the door. I was frozen in place, listening to the ever-increasing chant. I wanted to put my hands over my ears, but I couldn't move.
One of the nun’s heads turned toward me while the others continued to sing. An extreme feeling of dread that’s hard to explain came over me. The pit in my stomach dropped and all the blood in my body seemed to flood to my feet. The nun who was staring at me smiled a slow, grimy smile. Her teeth were small white razors with a three-pronged tongue. Her eyes… her eyes were pure black just like Mrs. Bosch’s had been.
Without warning or any crescendo, the chanting stopped. The light of the morning flooded into the room and the sounds of the nursing home flooded the room from the hallway. I realized I could move and looked over to the door, then fainted.
My next memory was sitting in front of Dianne.
“This does not look good. Not good at all. We knew it would be a risk taking you on with your reputation-” my reputation, I thought as she talked- “but we really need the help. One more mistake like this and I’ll have to let you go.”
I had no idea what she was referring to. I wasn’t sure what was worse- asking what I did to get this talk or to try to justify myself with the story of the nuns. I decided to shelve both ideas and revisit it later when things weren’t so tense.
“I understand,” I said. “I’ll tighten up.”
“Everyone is suffering from overwork right now. I don’t think anyone has the extra energy to have their work second-guessed about whether or not our nurses can serve the proper dose of medications again.”
There it was. Was it Mother Melinda? Oh my God. What did I do? I hope I didn’t hurt her.
I walked out of the private office and past the nurses’ station. Everyone’s chatter ceased. I could feel all eyes on me as I sleeked by them. The glares gave off a heat I could feel on my back even as I walked out of the building and drove out of the parking lot.
The next night, I got there early, helped out a few nurses catch up on charting, and made an apology to Dianne. She was hesitant but accepting, a fault of nurses everywhere. I promised to work better and get my act together.
“Good,” she said. “By the way, Shirlene called out tonight. She’s sick and can’t make it. You’ll be here all night by yourself. I’ll be in a couple hours early. You have my number if you need anything. There’s also a couple nurses on the other side of the building in Hospice if you need it in an emergency.”
In an emergency? This can’t be done by one person on a good day, I thought. I gritted my teeth and said, “Okay. I got this.”
That night was extremely fast paced. Word must have gotten around among the patients that there would only be one nurse that night. They all demanded my attention with the smallest things. Ice. Pillows. Water. Help using the bathroom. These things were all reasonable; it was just overwhelming for me. Things finally slowed down around 2 AM. Finally, all the patients seemed to be at peace and sleeping. I got caught up on some charting and took a small mental break. It was a precious moment of sanity where I could finally catch my breath. I dozed off slightly when I heard the call bell and saw the light outside one of the rooms come on, signaling someone needed some help. It was Mrs. Jacobs, my old confidant.
This didn’t make any sense though. She was a human vegetable. I pressed the button for the two-way mic that connected her room to the nurses’ station and held it for a moment to see if I could hear anything. A few moments passed.
“Hello?” I asked. “Do you need help, Mrs. Jacobs?”
No response. This thoroughly creeped me out. The only thing to do was to go check it out in person. I turned off the light to show it had been answered and walked over to her room. The door made a louder than usual creak as I eased it open. Maybe I was just more sensitive to everything at that moment. I don’t know. When it opened all the way, I saw her sitting in bed upright facing the wall away from the door!
Several expletives went through my mind. I had seen too much already and was ready to run.
“Don’t be afraid.” It was a voice I never heard before. I was still in the threshold of the door as she talked. “We’ve watched you with intent. You see us, don’t you? Not many people can see us. Even those that do see us ignore us. We don’t like that.” The voice got progressively raspier. Before I knew it, I was beside the bed within arm’s reach of her back. I don’t recall walking toward the bed. It was like I was transported there instantly. “You’re as attracted to us as we are to you, I see.”
“I don’t want to be.” This was it. I was finding my courage. I had had enough of all this. I was done with the ghosts. I was done with this building. I was done with everything. I just wanted to be out.
“That’s too bad. We’ve chosen you. You can’t go anywhere now.”
I tested that theory immediately and made a beeline for the door. It slammed loudly right in front of me with the door missing my face by mere inches. I stopped, stunned for a second, then tried to open the door. Patient rooms didn’t lock in case someone was ever incapacitated and we needed to get to them, but this one didn’t budge. I broke down and started crying, banging on the door with the side of my fist as I slid to my knees. I was terrified beyond belief. I looked back at Mrs. Jacobs.
She was now sitting facing me. There they were. Those dark black eyes staring into the depths of my soul.
“No,” I said. “You won’t have me.” I ran full speed at the frail old lady and tackled her, sending us both across the bed. She didn’t put up a fight. I held her tight and glanced down. The eyes were closed. Bruises were all over the body and a small amount of blood was coming out of the corner of her mouth. I got up quickly, cracking a few of her bones as I applied pressure to lift myself up. I just assaulted a 90-something woman. For the first time, I found myself praying the ghost or demon or whatever it was grabbed a hold of the lady and made her fight me back.
*Knock, knock, knock*
My neck snapped toward the door.
“Is everything alright in here? We heard something from down the hall. Do you need some help?” It was one of the Hospice nurses from the other side of the building! I didn’t know what to do. I ran to the door even though I was on the other side of the room. The door was creaking open when it slammed hard while I was only halfway across the room. The incoming nurse was a quarter of the way through when it slammed, smashing her hard into the metal frame of the door. She yelped in pain and fell, laying down with her upper body in the room and the other half in the hallway. She looked up confused at me.
“Why did you do that!” she yelled. Papers she was carrying were strewn along the floor. The wooden clipboard was halved. Her neon yellow scrubs had a small but growing trickle of red. We both looked down in horror. A pen had penetrated her chest. She roared in pain. “Help! Help!”
“Please, no. I’m sorry. It wasn’t me. You saw. I wasn’t even close to the door!”
She didn’t answer. She was looking past me. I slowly turned around, afraid of what I would see. Underneath the bed, a pool of dark blood was spreading across the floor. The realization hit Hospice nurse and I at the same time. Our reactions were quite different though. She screamed in horror for help even more, attempting to lift herself up. She collapsed before being able to put the weight on both her arms. It was apparent that one of them was broke. This sent her into a spiral of hysterics as the pen was forced deeper inside her chest. I could hear murmurs coming from Mrs. Jacobs and the impending response of more nurses from the other side of the building running down the hallway. There was no way out of this. There was no way to explain it. Hanging on to this job was the priority less than 24 hours ago. Now I was going to be locked away forever, either in prison or an asylum.
My heart and mind were racing. I got the feeling I’d gotten before passing out before. My vision began to pulsate. My consciousness was going in and out for longer periods. The darkness was setting in when I heard a faint voice. It was muffled, similar to hearing something underwater. Slowly, it got clearer. I focused as hard as I could. It was the Ambrosian chant.
The nuns walked in one by one into the room, stepping over the silent but still writhing body of the Hospice nurse. The chanting became hypnotic. My heart slowed and my breathing normalized again. I didn’t understand a word of it but found my mouth moving in sync with theirs. Two nuns walked to the other side of the bed and bent down over the body of Mrs. Jacobs, picked her up, and laid her on the bed. The blood on her face and bruises on her body vanished. Another nun twirled her wrist while walking on the puddle of blood. The blood slowly faded.
Mother Melinda made an entrance by herself, walking with grace and stoicism.
“We have chosen you.” It was the same voice as what I heard before, but the tone was softer, more persuasive. “We are here for you. We will help you.”
I looked back down at the Hospice nurse. Two more nuns were tending to her. The pen, clipboard, and papers were organized and put in her hands as she floated to her feet. The nuns placed the Hospice nurse next to Mrs. Jacobs and seemed to freeze her in place.
Their attention then turned to me. They surrounded me, but the Ambrosian chant kept me calm. Forming a circle, they put their hands on me. My body turned transparent. My soul was chilled to the inner core. Mother Melinda then started walking out the door while the nuns followed in a single line. Two of them led me by the hand into the hallway along with the group. Time stood still. I could see a group of nurses running down the hall toward Mrs. Jacobs’s room, frozen in mid-stride.
Mother Melinda walked back to her room. The accord of nuns continued on. I glanced in the room as we past, watching Mother Melinda lay down. She winked at me just as she went out of view. I’m not sure what Dianne will think, but that doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters but following this chant to wherever it leads me. I am at peace.
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2022.01.28 01:44 AusCOVID19 Five people with COVID-19 die in South Australia as restrictions to ease on hospitality, surgery, QR codes
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2022.01.28 01:44 aquarius_dreamer97 How do I ask a guy to be my boyfriend?
I (24,F) am interested in this guy (23,M) and it’s mutual. I very much want to date him and I think he does to, but is afraid that I am not as into him as I really am. I think if I asked him, he would say yes, but I’m trying not to hurt his pride/scare him etc. Any advice??
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2022.01.28 01:44 Shook_3332 SSBKK users punching the air rn
2022.01.28 01:44 zalik9 [Landlord US-PA] No lease in placed, how much advanced notice to remove tenant?
I have an unusual situation and could use advice. We purchased a house with closing on 14 January. During December, we were told there were 2 tenants in the house, with a lease that ends 31st January, but who wanted to stay. We said fine, we weren’t ready to get into the house for renovations until July, anyway.
Just before closing, one tenant moves out. The other says he can’t afford $2200 rent and wants to keep paying just his $1000. We debated, and agreed, because we don’t want to furnish the place and finding a tenant for 5 months in winter isn’t easy. The sellers were a pain, and while they did send us a check (they were forced to by closing attorney) for 2 weeks’ rent and security deposits, they never signed over their lease to us. We ignored that, just started drawing up our own 5 month lease for the 1 remaining tenant.
Last weekend, pipes in the basement burst and flooded the basement. $4600 damages. We’re irritated, tell the tenant to leave the heat on down there, but move on. He comes back 2 days ago, just before we send him the new lease to sign, saying he can’t afford $1000. 25th Jan “I know when I spoke with the realtor I said to stay $1000 a month until July. But it’s getting just too expensive taking utilities and maintaining this whole house by myself. I don’t mind helping you coordinate these renovations you have planned. But unless I can stay here cheaper, I’m starting to look at other places to stay.” (On renovations, when he asked to stay for only $1000 he offered to paint or do repairs, I said if he could just take some measurements of the kitchen and a video that would be great). He asked for $500/month. I said cannot do.
Then he messages “Well I have another friend moving in. Would you let him move in? Keep it at 1,000 a month, so I get my desired price. And you pay for heat? If you want that basement heater running that’s gonna jack up the price for that utility.”
Separately he emails my husband, on same day, saying he wants to move in his roommate and we pay all utilities. “If you want that basement heater running that’s gonna jack up the price for that utility… “ and In another email “how are we treating security deposit? It’s transferred to you prior. I will take responsibility for the screens, but everything else was normal wear and tear or negligence the previous landlord tried to blame on us…” My husband tells him no way to utilities, maybe to roommate, send info we’ll run a credit check, and we’ll do appropriate assessment for security deposit including returning that other tenant’s portion. All of this on 25th January.
When my husband and I compared notes yesterday (26th) we decide this tenant is just bad news. Husband tells him we’re going another direction with house, won’t be offering 5 month lease. Tenant is of course upset, says we “agreed” to everything, and legally he gets 60 days notice to depart.
Except there’s no lease. So how do we do this? His current lease, which we aren’t on and never signed over, ends 31st January. How much notice does he get? Do we write some sort of super short-term lease to cover that notice period? We never agreed to roommate (said we’d consider, send credit, which was 630 and only 1 payment >30days late so not bad but we never answered), and he’s saying he can’t afford the agreed upon rent+utilities himself so how do we even manage a grace period?
Appreciate any advice here. We don’t necessarily want to kick someone out with 4 days notice, but it was him who came back 2.5 days ago saying he no longer agreed to what we verbally agreed to around the 14th January...
TLDR; we bought a house with 2 tenants, closing date 14 January and their lease ended 31 January. We agreed in December to extend lease, then 1 guy left and other guy wanted to stay but only pay his 1/2 rent. We agreed verbally, as was just easier for us. Before we could send new lease, on 25 Jan, tenant says he can’t do $1000 either, wants to move in his friend and have us pay all utilities and keep $1000 lease. On 25th, same day and late at night for us, my husband says if roommate has good credit check that would probably work, but definitely no to us paying for their utilities. On 26th Jan we decide no to roommate (not because of credit, because of manipulative and somewhat threatening texts/emails from current tenant), we’re not going to offer a new lease. Now, 3 days to end of his old lease - what do we do? Does he get 30 or 60 day notice? Does he get any notice? Do we write a short lease to cover that notice?
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2022.01.28 01:44 AdamTheHood What happened to the guest podcast/two podcasts a week?
Hey! Was basically just wondering if the guest podcast episodes are no longer happening or they just didn’t have anyone lined up coming back from holiday/Greg being back etc.
The last one we got was on the week of the 6th of December and I believe that was also the last week that we got 2 KFP’s in the same week.
This isn’t a complaint btw! Just a bit confused
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2022.01.28 01:44 coldbottledwater Something about this title..