A new Dunkin’ opened up about a week ago, whereupon this happened in the right-angled drive-thru lane:

A closer look shows they need more concrete down there:

If that were my gas service, I might have put up two ineffective bollards.
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Ed Nisley's Blog: Shop notes, electronics, firmware, machinery, 3D printing, laser cuttery, and curiosities. Contents: 100% human thinking, 0% AI slop.
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A new Dunkin’ opened up about a week ago, whereupon this happened in the right-angled drive-thru lane:

A closer look shows they need more concrete down there:

If that were my gas service, I might have put up two ineffective bollards.

Another specimen at the corner gas station atop their flatbed hauler:

The exposed ICs add a piquant touch, don’t they?
We’ll never know the rest of the story …

Despite cogent reasons for not buying another Sears vacuum cleaner, the brand currently represents a local maximum of the desirability curve: cheap, readily available, works well enough, and, surprisingly, bags for the defunct Progressive (whatever that meant) vacuum seem to fit just fine.
But the new one does come with some annoyances, starting with trendy dark gray engraved / molded control markings:

Quick: from the other end of the vacuum hose, which one must you stomp to turn it off?
Well, I can fix that:

After the Progressive’s bizarre and overly complex tool fittings, the new unit has tools that slip-fit onto a classic steel tube, which means I can throw all those adapters into a box of 3D printing examples for use in the unlikely event I ever do another show-n-tell presentation.
It also has a simple rotating suction control ring at the handle:

Which, as you can tell from the fluorescent tape, featured the same embossed and unreadably small dark gray markings.
Because that ring and its glaring tape is invisible from the user’s end of the handle, I eventually duct-taped the ring in position to prevent another inadvertent loss-of-suction accident.
If we ever need reduced suction on a regular basis, I’ll conjure a better ring from the vasty digital deep:

I obviously no longer form deep emotional attachments to these things …

Spotted during a grocery trip:

I’m sure they have a good reason for whatever date code format they chose, but 2012272 seems open to misinterpretation in the runup to Christmas 2022.

This conversation started during the few hours when I had to turn off my phone’s incoming-call whitelist filter:

Seems to me a cash-for-house buyer who believes anything the seller says about the property is both new to the “real estate” biz and not destined for a long career. Obviously, the whole exchange attempts to increase my engagement and make me agree with everything going on.
Now, should you happen to be moving to the Mid-Hudson Valley and need a really nice shop with an attached house, let me know: we can work out a better deal.
Protip: if you’re in a position to stack seven thousand Benjamins on our kitchen table, don’t get between us and and the horizon.
There is a reason all my calls and texts go through a whitelist filter.

For reasons not relevant here, a new medication has entered the house, accompanied by its Drug Fact Sheet (blurred because you do not have a Need To Know):

The background squares are a scant one foot across.
The other side of the sheet is equally dense.
One should review this with each refill to check for new or changed information. Of course, there are no change bars or similar hints.
It might kill ya or cure ya, but you’ll never figure it out from that torrent of verbiage: just like software EULAs, nobody can possibly read and comprehend that stuff.

The data plate at the bottom of the the leaf bags we get from the town seems intended to set expectations at a certain level:

Which is immediately belied by the situation at the other end of the bag:

OK, it’s just a typo that could happen to anyone, but it first appeared last year and seems to be continuing. Possibly the Town of Poughkeepsie bought a lot of bags and we’re working through the stack.
However, the built-in gashes along the sides of some bags were a new feature this year:

Perhaps a misalignment in the folder or stacker:

Enough bags had slices, perhaps four in some ten-packs, to justify keeping the packing tape dispenser at hand while we were shredding up a storm:

Which frosted Mary pretty severely, as she recycles the used bags as garden path pavers after distributing their contents as mulch, so she’ll be stripping plenty of tape next year.
Although I’m not privy to the Town’s dealings, Dano’s chart suggests the bags cost about 40¢ in truckload lots, about as much as Lowe’s charges for similar bags in retail five-packs. Surprisingly, you can also buy the same Lowe’s bags from Amazon for a lot more, suggesting some folks live much further from a Lowe’s than we do.