With my continued gas savings I bought this! (1999 Accord LX)

[Xist]

Originally Posted by Xist

Mom was upset[...]

She wants me to drive our only good car to Phoenix and buy a car.

Does not compute! Error! Error!

[freebeard]

There is always this:

Your shed is looking really tidy.

She wants me to drive our only good car to Phoenix and buy a car.

She volunteered my sister to drive it back.

Does not compute! Error! Error!

[Xist]

I finally got my Camry running again, so it is totally time to finally fix my Accord, right?
I checked my messages and work e-mail yesterday. I didn't see anything about notes, so I...

What did I do last night?

Ah!

It was a long day! I saw five clients, drove to Holbrook to make up two sessions, and drove half an hour in the other direction to recycle glass, completely forgetting that it was Veterans' Day.

I mentioned all of that somewhere.

I needed to run to a couple of stores and then I was totally going to put the Accord back together. I asked Mom if she needed anything and she told me to take her to order a stove.

Lowe's and Home Depot only had two normal electric stove.

She ordered one for about $500.

I need to find someone to cap off the gas line and run a new 220 line.

We didn't get back until 2000!

I was totally going to work on my Accord today. I seriously wanted to drive down to Mesa to meet a lady, but I took Mom to order a stove last night, I needed to fix my Accord today, and I really should fix the gate.

The windstorm the other day ripped it apart!

I just didn't know that I could spare the time!

Well, she drove to Snowflake with her sister, so we met for lunch, and then hung out in a park. I drove back and was going to start working on my car, but I just couldn't stay awake!

I laid down, but Mom and my brother were loud, the neighbor was using a grinder, and someone else was excessively loud.

My sister didn't mention she was bringing her kids.
I gave them a bunch of hugs and started looking for everything I needed to fix my car, but my niece kept asking random questions, and I thought it would be better to visit with her inside.
Unfortunately, she kept trying to fight her older brother while he was trying to play on his device and my sister was attempting to nap, so I made her cuddle with me so she wouldn't fight with her brother and disturb their mother.

They didn't leave until 2100.

So, the young lady from Mesa turns out to be close friends with my 10-day fiancée, who is still angry at me after fifteen years and a failed marriage.

She still gossips about me.

[nemo]

Originally Posted by Xist

She still gossips about me.

Two ways to look at it.

It's nice to be remembered?

or

You left a lasting impression?

[Xist]

I broke up with my last girlfriend because we needed to do some things differently. I wanted to maintain contact and, once things settled down, discuss everything and make it work, but she ignored me for a year.

She was still angry at me for breaking up with her, but it seemed like we were able to work through it, and she suggested we met up for lunch.

At lunch she said "Moving forward..." and I thought "There is a forward?"

However, she barely talked to me for a month and then made a huge deal when she invited me to lunch again and I wasn't feeling well.

I told her that we didn't seem to understand each other and she wrote a Xist-length response, putting more energy into one rant than she had into our alleged relationship for a month.

However, she didn't put any effort into breaking up her rant into paragraphs or separate messages.

Here is the beginning of "The Catcher in the Rye," by J.D. Salinger, which was one page long in Word. He actually broke this into a couple of paragraphs, which I put back together:

If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, an what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth. In the first place, that stuff bores me, and in the second place, my parents would have about two hemorrhages apiece if I told anything pretty personal about them. They're quite touchy about anything like that, especially my father. They're nice and all--I'm not saying that--but they're also touchy as hell. Besides, I'm not going to tell you my whole goddam autobiography or anything. I'll just tell you about this madman stuff that happened to me around last Christmas just before I got pretty run-down and had to come out here and take it easy. I mean that's all I told D.B. about, and he's my brother and all. He's in Hollywood. That isn't too far from this crumby place, and he comes over and visits me practically every week end. He's going to drive me home when I go home next month maybe. He just got a Jaguar. One of those little English jobs that can do around two hundred miles an hour. It cost him damn near four thousand bucks. He's got a lot of dough, now. He didn't use to. He used to be just a regular writer, when he was home. He wrote this terrific book of short stories, The Secret Goldfish, in case you never heard of him. The best one in it was "The Secret Goldfish." It was about this little kid that wouldn't let anybody look at his goldfish because he'd bought it with his own money. It killed me. Now he's out in Hollywood, D.B., being a prostitute. If there's one thing I hate, it's the movies. Don't even mention them to me. Where I want to start telling is the day I left Pencey Prep. Pencey Prep is this school that's in Agerstown, Pennsylvania. You probably heard of it. You've probably seen the ads, anyway. They advertise in about a thousand magazines, always showing some hotshot guy on a horse jumping over a fence. Like as if all you ever did at Pencey was play polo all the time. I never even once saw a horse anywhere near the place. And underneath the guy on the horse's picture, it always says: "Since 1888 we have been molding boys into splendid, clear-thinking young men." Strictly for the birds. They don't do any damn more molding at Pencey than they do at any other school. And I didn't know anybody there that was splendid and clear-thinking and all. Maybe two guys. If that many. And they probably came to Pencey that way. Anyway, it was the Saturday of the football game with Saxon Hall. The game with Saxon Hall was supposed to be a very big deal around Pencey. It was the last game of the year, and you were supposed to commit suicide or something if old Pencey didn't win. I remember around three o'clock that afternoon I was standing way the hell up on top of Thomsen Hill, right next to this crazy cannon that was in the Revolutionary War and all. You could see the whole field from there, and you could see the two teams bashing each other all over the place. You couldn't see the grandstand too hot, but you could hear them all yelling, deep and terrific on the Pencey side, because practically the whole school except me was there, and scrawny and faggy on the Saxon Hall side, because the visiting team hardly ever brought many people with them. There were never many girls at all at the football games. Only seniors were allowed to bring girls with them. It was a terrible school, no matter how you looked at it. I like to be somewhere at least where you can see a few girls around once in a while, even if they're only scratching their arms or blowing their noses or even just giggling or something. Old Selma Thurmer--she was the headmaster's daughter--showed up at the games quite often, but she wasn't exactly the type that drove you mad with desire. She was a pretty nice girl, though. I sat next to her once in the bus from Agerstown and we sort of struck up a conversation. I liked her. She had a big nose and her nails were all bitten down and bleedy-looking and she had on those damn falsies that point all over the place, but you felt sort of sorry for her. What I liked about her, she didn't give you a lot of horse manure about what a great guy her father was. She probably knew

So, her message was something like that, except full of hatred for me.

I hope that she felt better, but it would be irrational to expect anyone to read her message.

I don't understand why the other woman is still angry at a man with whom she was briefly engaged 15 years ago and she got married.

[freebeard]

I suspect she may have been plagarizing copywritten material.

[Xist]

If you were angry would you quote the first page of a book at someone?

[freebeard]

All I know is anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. I've suffered enough.

If I were to quote a book at someone ("Synergetics!") I'd do it in semi-cursive longhand.

[Xist]

How would you do that on-line?

I finally rolled under my car to scrape off the engine block before installing the new gasket and the razor was far too wide, so I picked up a scraper, didn't look forward to working on cold metal on cold concrete when it was 28°F, and then wondered if there is a minimum temperature for applying it.
The back says "At 77°F and 50% relative humidity, the surface layer will dry in about 60 minutes, and the film sets to a rubber-like consistency in 16 hours."
The MSDS doesn't show a freezing temperature.
Should it be fine in the cold?
Should I give it longer to cure?
Should I clear out the insulated garage and push my Accord up the driveway and inside?
As Diskreet on Civic Forums said, "Not everyone has the luxury of taking a civic out for 3+ days. When it comes to Civics, they usually aren't the 2nd vehicle." https://www.civicforums.com/forums/1...ml#post3698237

[Piotrsko]

Silicone seal is water vapor cured. Below 32 degrees there isn't a lot of local humidity to begin the cure. Warm it up above ambient and it will be fine but a slower cure. I myself use a 100 watt incandescent heat bulb typically out of a bathroom.