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.
The Smell of Molten Projects in the Morning
Ed Nisley's Blog: Shop notes, electronics, firmware, machinery, 3D printing, laser cuttery, and curiosities. Contents: 100% human thinking, 0% AI slop.
And kvetching, too

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.
Around this time last year, Humana was spamming me with emails sporting a misconfigured unsubscribe link, so that I could not get myself off their mailing list.
This year, they have the unsubscribe link set up properly, except …

Apparently my email address was good enough to get their junk email to me, but it’s not good enough for them to stop sending junk.
I was pretty sure this was deliberate last year. Now, I’m certain.
And they want me to trust them?
You can’t make this stuff up.

A dentist’s office has been a-building for what seems entirely too long, but the outdoor sign finally went up. Being that type of guy, I had to take a closer look at how they wired up the LEDs:

That’s exactly as half-assed as it looks: unprotected PVC wires emerging from raw holes drilled into the backplate and burrowing into unsealed laser-cut acrylic loosely seated behind the white character boxes.
Everything you see is gonna be full of bugs in no time!
I’ve done similar botch jobs, but generally for my own use …

Now that vape “pen” refill cartridges are (mostly) dead, roadside debris has gotten chunkier:

It’s a Hyde Edge Recharge vape pen or it could be a counterfeit. You (definitely not me) get “up to” 3300 puffs from the 10 ml container, with 50 mg of nicotine ensuring you can’t get enough and will come back for more. Although I don’t follow the market, “disposable” vape pens can still contain the fruity flavors prohibited in refillable pens, with the added decadence of throwing the whole thing away when the tank runs dry:

My admittedly inexperienced eye says the “tank”, which is really just a fiber cylinder soaked in fruity juice + nicotine, still has plenty of hits remaining.
The Basement Shop may never smell the same again.
Of more interest, the silvery lump wrapped in a white felt strip is a 600 mA·hr lithium cell that slurped 406 mA·hr through its USB Micro-B jack when I recharged it. Perhaps the user victim sucker tossed it when the battery “died”, being unable / unwilling / ignorant-of-how to recharge it? The yellow aluminum case seems faded on the mouthpiece end, but that might be a stylin’ thing.
A closer look at the electronics payload:

The two red wires over on the right went to the coil in the draw tube to the right of the “tank”. Not being interested enough to care, I wrecked the coil while extracting the rest of the contents. Comfortingly, the red and black wires from the PCB go to the positive and negative battery tabs.
A closer look at both sides of the PCB:

The SOT23 IC sports an LTH7 topmark corresponding to an LTC4054-4.2 Standalone Charge Controller (Analog Devices absorbed Linear in 2017). The two LEDs to its right glow red during charge and white during each puff.
The black felt disk covers an anonymous pressure sensor activating the coil during each puff. With four pins, the sensor must be far more complex than just a switch, but nowadays puff sensing could require an entire ARM microcontroller.
Speaking of microcontrollers, there’s always this fate:

I fought down an almost uncontrollable urge to amputate my arms at the elbows and cauterize the stumps …