My Dad was a firefighter fpr 35 years, and his go-to line when someone wanted help gettong a cat down was, "Have you ever seen a cat skeleton in a tree?"
In high school, I got in a car wreck and had to drive without a front bumper for about a year. When the bumper got torn away, it also took the light housings for my blinkers and running lights.
My dad made new housings with zip ties and soda cans cut in half that attached to the back of lenses we bought cheap at the local auto parts store. He drilled slightly undersized holes in the bottom of the cans that held the bulbs in place when they were pushed through, and he'd polished the inside of the cans to act as reflectors.
It worked great! When we eventually got the bumper replaced, the body guy shop was amazed and said he didn't see any reason why we should spend the money to buy factory housings, and when we sold that car it still had store-brand diet sprite cans as light housings that surely confused the hell out of someone down the line.
I still mess up my sister's spouse. They're NB, but kept their name, hobbies, etc. To me, they're the exact same awesome person they've always been, so I still screw up and call them by male pronouns.
I 100% support them, but I screw up and it feels bad.
I could be driving warp 7 in a school zone and I swear people would be passing me and flipping the bird. It's like they see that is not made for speed, so they're required to treat it as slow.
I work in the development department for a tiny city that's an enclave for the super-rich. There's literally no house in city who's residents aren't multi-millionaires, and we have multiple very high-profile billionaires. We have city codes for servant's quarters, and all of us have been confronted by private security forces when making our rounds around town.
Our codes are strict, and our residents entitled, which is an unholy combination.
I track everything, always. It's beautiful when a billionaire's lawyer shows up at Council demanding that we're the problem, and I can pull up logs showing that the contractor they hired to build the 20-million dollar house hasn't logged into the permitting portal since the initial application was made 8 months earlier, along with the 30 emails we've sent the contractor, engineers, architect, homeowner, and the lawyer that's currently yelling at Council.
Cuddling and massages are pretty much where it ends with me. I was in a relationship for a while, but it didn't work out timing-wiss with careers and locations. We still keep in touch and hang out a few times a year though.
Nice thing about an Ace breakup is there's less sexual baggage attached to becoming friends again.
Those socks will get pretty SCSI.