Furniture stores in easton md

Hey everyone, I am new here but I’ve been following you guys for quite some time already. While I know there are those among the older generation who will do anything and everything to help out their kids, I want to remind you that many of those among the older generations simply don’t care about the genuine happiness and welfare of their kids.
I am in Bangkok, Thailand and one of my buddies here, his dad was director of WebMD (surname starts with an A) for over a decade. He’s a leading expert in cancer research in San Diego as well as being proficient in multiple other types of medicine, but my friend’s found a much happier path for himself halfway across the world and his dad simply doesn’t get it.
His dad keeps pressuring him, both directly and more subtly, to go back to the US, further his education and join the grind in a “respectable” career path. What also doesn’t help is his brother followed in his dad’s footsteps, is miserable AF but is in it for the prestige, and has a wife that constantly complains about them never having enough “stuff”.
His dad’s insistence has often made him depressed, and compounding things is the fact that the dad has BPD on top of his demanding and unsympathetic tendencies. He clearly has the financial means to help out my friend in whatever way makes him happy (and my friend is one of the most compassionate people I know), but in the name of “you gotta grind and suffer like I did or else you won’t deserve anything”, refuses to support my friend and give him his blessing.
It would be outright impossible for my friend to have a decent shot at a good life back in the States, nor is it what he wants. He told me a decent apartment in downtown San Diego would cost well over 2000 bucks a month, and the complex might still be old.
It’s hard for his dad to understand that he’s chosen to live in a way that makes him feel a lot more at peace, and his dad is salty about that.
What a dick. My friend was also horribly mistreated by his stepmother while growing up (whom his dad eventually divorced) and his dad kissed her ass while enabling that bitch of a woman to mistreat his very own son.

Hello. This isn't so much of a complaint as a "what to do in this situation" type deal.

• Ordered Dominoes Pizza, 1 Marbled Cookie Brownie, 1 8 Piece Wing
• $5 Tip
• Order around 8:30 PM EST.
• Put down to give me a call/text when the driver is 5 minutes away.

Now. Mind you, I live in an apartment building with security, doors close at 8 PM (Automatic locking doors. You need to be badged in.) So I usually sit downstairs and wait on the bench for my delivery.

• Pizza order is done around 8:45 PM
• Delivery is set out at 8:55 PM
• Delivery driver is named Eric.
• Doesn't call or text when they will arrive or let's me know they're here (as put in the note.)

I check my pizza tracker. Delivery is due around 9:08-9:10 PM. Cool. 9:00 PM rolls around, I'm waiting downstairs. I'm staring at my tracker and I see the delivery driver en route. Ok. Everything is cool.

• Eric is within striking distance of my apartment complex.
• Eric is pulling up.
• Nobody shows up at the door.
• Says the food has been delivered.

I then attempt to get a hold of the store. I call once. Get placed on hold for 45 minutes. I go "Ok. Must be busy I'll call tomorrow. No big deal. Surely there's an explanation for this."

• I wake up early morning.
• Call Dominoes around 11:30 - 11:45 AM.
• Placed on hold for another 15-20 minutes.

At this point I went down to the store itself.

• Explain to the cashier that I placed my order, didn't recieve the food.
• They tell me the manager isn't in today.
• I ask for a refund.
• Get told only the manager can issue refunds.
• Ok I'lll try to call in tomorrow or later on in the evening.

Return back home. I try calling later on in the afternoon around 1 PM to see if the evening shift manager was in. On hold for another 20-35 minutes. At this point I've lost my patience and just wanted a refund. So I called another store and explained the situation. They told me to call corporate.

• Next day arrives, I call corporate around 9:30 AM.
• No human picks up the phone.
• Forced to use the bot to interact.
• I go through the prompts.

I leave my inquiry, and then I remembered. I had paid through Paypal.

• Puts a ticket in with Paypal.
• Paypal investigates
• Receive a full refund within 2 hours.

Tl; dr - Always use Paypal when doing online orders. Don't run around like a chicken with your head cut off. I like Dominoes, but this was just poor practice. There's another nearby store I will order from in the future since my local one has poor customer service. I also never knew if Eric stole my food or not.

Yeah I put this off until the last minute, I’ve had enormous difficulty communicating all my life so please bear with me. I don’t think one person knows this whole story but I realize it’s time I find a way to let my voice be heard. Hopefully it’s come together well enough after a week of working on it...
I was the kid that won all the first place trophies and held all the records on track and field day in kindergarten. Always outside doing whatever adrenaline pumping activity I could get myself into. From early on my parents recognized that I needed an environment that team competitive sports provides. Justifiably so, I would never trade the life lessons earned while playing American football for those read in a class room.
I suited up for the gridiron at 7 years old. I was padded from the toes up and it felt incredible, like I was a tank! The coaches loved me, I was short and stout, quick, sharp and fearless. It didn’t take long before I was playing on both sides of the ball, as running back on offense, safety on defense and returner on kickoffs. I was on the field the whole game. The attention as a team leader was intoxicating, it hooked me for life. I suffered my first on field concussion the following year.
It was the first game of the season, the bleachers seemed packed. Near the beginning of the game, playing as free safety, I see my opportunity to not let the team down. The ball gets handed off to their running back, a smaller guy like me, bursts around the mass of blockers to the outside and lights a fire down the sideline. Nothing between him and the touchdown, I project myself into his path and charge ahead like a game of chicken. Littler dude gets even lower than me, his helmet hitting me square in the diaphragm, lifts me clean off the ground and runs through me as though I wasn’t there. I land on my back, head hits the grass. Next thing I know I’m being lifted into an ambulance after being carried off the field on a stretcher. This was my first year of full contact play after a season of flag football and I clearly had not yet grasped the differences. I was in 2nd grade.
As I was enrolled in speech and hearing therapy at school, coaches began teaching me to get over that big hit by hitting the next kid even harder. I began to yearn the brutality of the game even as I took more punishment. The cycle was vicious. Looking back it really seems as though the coaches had some other agenda or issue that fed the aggression. We were coached to lead with our heads because shoulder pads were far too small proportionately and they’d make fun of us after a game if we couldn’t count multiple paint streaks embedded into the plastic on our helmets. Those paint marks were made by helmet to helmet contact, the more impactful the hit, the greater your “trophy”. Some kids earned more trophies than I and it pissed me off so I’d hit harder. They’d line us up one-on-one and tell us to knock the other guy off his feet if we wanted to play in the next game. I couldn’t begin to count the times I was laid out left counting the birds flying over my head in practice alone. Guys would go down every night, coaches laughing, “Aww get him some gatorade, he’s fine. Sit out 10 minutes and get back in here little guy.” I went on to play another 5 years in mostly the same positions until one day, after a difficult practice and a conversation with a close teammate, we dropped our pads and never looked back. But the damage had been done, my path had already been irrevocably set.
After that first on field concussion in 2nd grade, I went on to endure countless concussions over the next 7 years, first from football, then bike riding, fighting and skateboarding. It seemed after a few days of balance issues, blurry vision or headaches, I had no lingering problems and follow-up medical care was nonexistent at the time. It would be easier to recount the couple dozen times I was knocked unconscious, including one that kept me in the hospital for a week. I was so harebrained by high school, I attempted my fourth day of ninth grade black out drunk. The next day I was allowed back on campus I got busted with a joint. At 14, I ran away from home and made it 800 miles before being picked up by cops while breaking into cars for spare change. I was headed for Colorado to build a cabin. Wtf did I know about any of that? And I nearly made it. I quit school, 8th grade was my last year of formal education. Would wonder around the city drinking or smoking anything I could get a hold of. I’d go skateboarding atop some of the tallest buildings in Atlanta or scoot around the woods on an ATV while blindly firing my buddy’s .44 into the air. I shouldn’t have lived through it all, I have dear friends that didn’t. But at 15 I had an epiphany (thanks to LSD), packed a box and moved 400 miles away from everything and everyone. I was somehow able to hit the reset button and leave that volatile part of my life behind and spend the next several years recovering from the constant brain trauma.
Fast forward a few decades and what I’m left with is an inability to manage my life beyond today, I’ve been stuck in flight or fight mode ever since and I’m exhausted with looking over my shoulder. I’m feeling the effects of early onset dementia as I type this and I’m actually scared for the first time in my life. My days have moved beyond forgetting where I put my keys to nearly burning the house down when I run to the store forgetting that I was in the middle of cooking. I haven’t driven a vehicle in years because I’m scared I’ll hurt someone in a fit of road rage or forget why I left home in the first place. The few hours of sleep I may get is the only way to escape the screaming in between my ears and it makes rolling out of bed all the more difficult. I’ve lived in 27 different homes yet never owned my own. It’s been a rarity to hold a job or relationship more than a couple of years and have no savings for retirement. I’ve all but given up friendships and not had a meaningful conversation with my kids in years and I can’t blame them at all. I think about them all day and it hurts beyond words knowing that I’m the asshole and they’re better off without me around much. Have a talk with the person sitting next to you when your only available emotion is anger and see how many more conversations they willingly have with you. Imagine that being your dad. It’s as if there’s a switch that’s never been flipped and I’m incapable of appropriately expressing emotions in the moment. I really don’t mean to be the prick, I simply can’t help it. But I’ll never let you see the side of me cowering in the bathroom bawling my eyes out once I have time to reflect.
I’m 48 years young now and launching a new mission in life, to help educate those on how it takes a community to provide a safe environment for our children. Not one person has all the right answers and alone we fail. Whether it be coaches, school administrators, parents or the medical field, the system failed me. I would never advocate to end youth football, but why does it need to be combative? Too many have tragically lost their voices without even knowing football damaged their brains. The year I fell in love with the game was the year I played low-contact flag football, it becomes something else entirely when you start hitting each other.
It’s time to ban youth tackle football. Is it radical, yes. So were seatbelts and smoking bans.
Converting youth football to a flag system is the only remaining viable solution to making football safer for our kids. CA and NY have recently submitted proposals, it’s time lawmakers in other states step forward. The NFL’s most recent Pro Bowl gave flag rules a shot, the fans and players enjoyed it so much it’s here to stay. If the NFL gets its proposal to the 2028 Olympic Games approved, it will be no-contact flag football rules as well. If future iterations of the game are evolving to keep adult players safe, when will youth sports follow? Why aren’t kids more protected and supported when less than 1% of them will go on to play in the NFL?
Stay strong and Stop Hitting Kids in the Head; https://concussionfoundation.org/stop-hitting-kids-in-the-head
FYI; I have a difficult time living in the moment so give me a few days and I’ll do my best to circle back around to this post. Know that I appreciate all of you at cte for coming along on this journey of discovery with me. I am not the best at providing emotional support either but know that I look forward to getting us to a place where we can all be there more for each other. I’m thinking of you when I post and I will continue sharing my research along the way, please share yours and know that you are safe here.
Additional links;
Age of first exposure to tackle football and years played associated with less white matter in brain; https://medicalxpress.com/news/2023-03-age-exposure-tackle-football-years.html
Three or more concussions add up to long-term cognitive problems; https://www.theguardian.com/sport/2023/jan/31/three-or-more-concussions-add-up-to-long-term-cognitive-problems-study-suggests
CTE Center Director Ann McKee says the NFL ignores the risks of repetitive blows to the head and that it’s “foolish” to think the league will police itself; https://www.bu.edu/articles/2023/bu-finds-cte-in-nearly-92-percent-of-former-nfl-players-studied/
How Psychedelic Therapy Can Help Treat Brain Injury; https://www.psychedelicpassage.com/how-psychedelic-therapy-can-help-treat-brain-injury/
Before You Let Your Kids Play Football, Read This; https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/play-in-mind/202301/before-you-let-your-kids-play-football-read-this

Every few months the idea of a memory i have of showering with my father being sexually abusive gets stuck in my head.
During this, I become very anxious, can't shower without crying and feeling like he's in the bathroom with me, go blank when I hear running water, and go completely mind numbed to the point where I cant really speak until its over and Ive "forgotten"/stored away the idea again.
Has this on and off kind of trigger mode ever happened to anyone else? Can my symptoms and other (not mentioned) triggers that don't go away be discounted because of how inconsistent my brain is?

I used to pitch my tent wherever. If it looked interesting, I was setting up camp. I kept a tent at the ready in my trunk. There’s nothing exciting about a park; there’s no adventure in that. I didn’t camp out near someone’s house or anything like that, but I have found myself in some precarious situations. The worst yet, happened in East Tennessee.
I was traveling back to campus after spring break. There’s a spot of hills that I’ve always thought interesting. Between those hills runs a long valley. As I drive back and forth between Knoxville and Nashville, I always tell myself that I’m going to camp in that spot, but I never do it. I’m always pressed for time. I never leave in time though. Class is always the next day. Lost in music, I started ruminating on how boring my life had become. To hell with it, I was going to do it. I didn’t much care to do Calculus at eight in the morning anyway. I could afford to miss one day.
I pulled over to the side of the interstate, got my tent and backpack, and started hiking downhill to the valley. It was still early afternoon. The sun was still high enough in the sky to illuminate my way. The vegetation was thick. There was no human-made trail, no way to easily traverse the terrain. As I hiked through the briars and whipping branches, I reminded myself to buy a machete for instances such as these.
I found a perfect spot under a thicket of red cedars, with a nice flat area and no undergrowth. I pitched my tent and laid out my sleeping bag. I didn’t carry much on these excursions. I had a backpack with some crackers, a knife, lighter and a flashlight. It was usually a one-night affair and I’m gone the next morning. I spent most of the day exploring, but on this occasion, I was a little late. My main desire was to hike to the top of the largest hill to see the view and discover what was on the other side.
It took me about an hour and a half to make it up the hill. There on the other side was a wide expanse of nothing but trees. It looked like a green shag carpet rolled out across the landscape. I noticed directly at the bottom of the hill was an old wooden shed. What an odd place for a shed. The sun was farther down but I still had time to check it out.
I descended down to the other side of the hill, with a little haste. I wanted to make it back to my tent before it got too dark, but I couldn’t pass up this opportunity. My curiosity piqued. I was excited for some adventure. I got to the shed, opened the door and walked straight in without surveying the inside first. I felt the earth beneath my feet give way, my gut lifting up as if on a roller coaster, and then fell hard to the ground, breaking my tibia. The pain was excruciating. I rolled around in agony, feeling the dirt and rocky bottom. I looked up and realized I had fallen down into a deep hole, not so deep that I couldn’t see the shed walls. The shed was only big enough to encompass and hide the hole. The hole seemed to be about twenty feet deep, no way to climb out and escape. There was still enough light to see up top, but down in the hole it was dark.
“We’re dead. You know that don’t you?”
I was startled. Someone else was down in the hole with me. I grabbed my flashlight out of my backpack. There on the other side of the hole was a young woman. Her whole being- body, face, and clothes were filthy with dirt and grime. Her lips were dried up and cracked.
“You almost hit me. Watch where you’re falling next time,” she said with a weak chuckle.
“How long have you been here?”
“I don’t know. I’m in and out of consciousness. Sometimes I wake up and think I’m home in bed, then realize I’m in this damned hole.”
“How did you get here?”
“I was abducted… and you?”
“I was camping and found this shed.”
She laughed. “So, you saw a creepy shed in the woods and went to see what was inside. Man, you’re a dumb fuck.”
“There’s no way out of here?”
“No, I’ve tried. Nothing we can do. I know you’re hurt pretty bad. I heard your leg snap as you fell. Man, what a sound. I hate to say this, but I’m glad you’re here though. I was getting lonely. I don’t mean I want you to go through what I’ve been through. I mean, I’m just glad you’re not him. Well, might as well introduce myself since we’re going to be spending a lot of time together. My name is Mary.” She widened her eyes and tilted her head forward, trying to evoke a response.
“I’m Gary.”
My leg was bent awkwardly, but no bone was exposed. Even though there was just me and Mary in the hole there were piles of clothing, a thrift store in the middle of the woods. I grabbed some blue jeans and a tee shirt. I tied it tight around my shin. I didn’t know how to make a tourniquet or even if I should. I just wanted to stabilize my leg the best I could.
There was an uneasy silence. What do you talk about when you are trapped in a hole?
“Him… you said him. It’s just the one guy?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know if I would call him a guy.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll see.”
“What do you mean? Does he come down into the hole?”
“Yes, and he takes you out of the hole and does things to you… experiments.”
“Then that’s our chance. That’s our only chance, is to knock the shit out of this fucker and get out of here. He’s not expecting me. He doesn’t know I’m down here.”
I started formulating a plan. There were enough clothes that I could hide underneath, and I had my knife.
“Mary, I want you to move forward. I’ll pack some clothes behind you. I’ll be buried underneath with my knife. You lean back on that pile… you know like you had made yourself a comfortable little bed or something. Ok?” She nodded her head. “When does he usually come?”
“I don’t know but it’s pretty regular.”
“How does he get down here?”
“He has a rope ladder.”
“Is he big? Have you ever tried to fight him… to escape?”
“No, he has some…” she hesitated, “some kind of power. It freezes me. I can’t move. I hear a ringing in my head and then I’m paralyzed. Don’t let him see you. We’ll know when he’s approaching. There’s always a humming sound and a clicking.”
I wasn’t believing anything she was saying. She had been trapped in a dark hole for who knows how long. She was losing her mind, starved of vital nutrients. Her imagination had started to create a different reality for her, one that I was unwilling to participate in.
I laid against the wall of the hole on my side. My broken leg was throbbing, as it was laying on the floor with my other leg on top. I couldn’t switch around though. I had to be facing the side the hole he would be climbing down. Mary threw a bunch of the clothing on top of me, leaving my face exposed so that I could breathe and not get too hot. I held my knife up to my chest. It was the old-fashioned survival knife, with a compass on the handle. I had long since lost the matches and string that came with the knife, tucked away in the hollow of the handle. But for my present purposes, the blade was, hopefully, all I needed. Mary leaned back against me. We waited.
After a while, I heard a humming and a clicking. The thought ran through my head that maybe Mary wasn’t crazy after all.
“He’s coming.”
“I know. Go ahead and cover my face.”
The humming subsided, but the clicking grew louder. I heard the door open, then the unrolling of the rope ladder with the wooden rungs tapping out a rhythm as it fell to the floor of the hole. Mary started to whimper in fear. I heard the man make his way down and then the thump of his feet as he jumped to the bottom. The hole lit up with a blue light. I felt Mary’s body go limp and then I felt her lifted up off of me. I slowly, quietly pushed away the shirt that was covering my face.
The man had his back towards me with Mary slumped over his shoulder. He was about to climb up out of the hole. He wasn’t that tall, but thick like a Neanderthal. He wore all black, with a long sleeve turtle-neck shirt. He was bald, but the oddest thing was where the blue light was emanating from. What skin I could see, on his head and his irregularly long hands, was glowing blue.
I was scared as hell. What was I about to tangle with? Yet, I knew now more than ever this was our only chance. I let him climb a few rungs before I sprung out and hobbled as fast as I could to the other side of the hole. He didn’t hear me. I know I had made too much noise, but he never reacted. I shoved my knife into his lower back. The clicking grew loud. I grabbed his shirt and yanked him down the ladder, pulling my knife out of his back, and thrusting it in the back of his neck. Mary fell hard to the ground.
He turned his head revealing large black eyes, devoid of pupils. He didn’t have a nose. His mouth was huge with mandibles projecting from each side. The mandibles fluttered angrily, clicking and humming, increasing in frequency. He, or it, pushed me to the ground, pulling my knife out of his neck and throwing it to the ground. It looked into my eyes, making a hypnotic contact that I could not shake. I heard a ringing in my head and my body went limp. I had no control over my limbs. I was frozen to the bottom of the hole, my plan unraveling.
Everything was a haze. I was barely cognizant of my surroundings so I don’t know when or how Mary regained consciousness, but I could see her sneaking toward the knife. My vision was blurry. I was fighting to not to pass out. I saw Mary get the knife and move quickly toward the being. She grabbed a handful of dirt and slung it at his head. He turned and she landed the knife in his face. He pivoted back toward me, and I could see she had stabbed him directly in one of his eyes. Black and crimson fluid streamed down his face. I could feel my body again, slowly able to move my limbs. I got up as fast as my recovering body would allow and started towards the ladder.
“Go Mary. Go, go, go. Get the hell out of here!”
She went up first and I followed pushing her in the rear as we went up. We were half-way when I felt him grab my broken leg. I shrieked; the pain was unbearable. I instinctively kicked with my other leg and landed a shot to his mouth, breaking off one of his mandibles. The creature fell back down into the hole. Mary and I made it out of the hole and quickly pulled up the ladder.
The creature recovered from its fall. Realizing it was trapped, it tried frantically to climb up the wall. I was relieved to see that it didn’t have any power of flight or levitation or some other weird alien power that would get him out of the hole. Mary and I watched as the blue shimmer of light banged against the walls, like a firefly stuck in a mason jar. There was nothing to do but leave it there and hope it starved to death.
It took forever, but we finally made it to my car. Mary drove me to the nearest hospital. She called the police and told them that we had escaped from an assailant with long black hair and a big bushy beard. I don’t know what else she could say. Who would believe the truth? She pushed the officials in a different direction from the shed, claiming that we had escaped from a house somewhere about ten miles from the actual location. I suspected she knew more than what she was saying, or even more than what she had told me. Maybe she knew that the creature would no longer be there, that something would have come and retrieved him. I don’t know. I do know that I never travel that way anymore and I sure as hell don’t ever go camping. Gaming is all the adventure I need.

The clusterfund is what mods each put $10 into monthly. Each month like a ritual we magically convert it all from private property into personal property and redistribute it all according to our trusty decider process.
If we don't convert and drain it, it will remain stuck as capital. Capital is toxic. It's held and stored private while others go needy. Most non-anticapitalist. To drain it is to redistribute it, but not back to ourselves. Where it goes will depend on its size that month. We won't give $10 to a huge entity and we won't give $100k to an individual in need (unless we think there's a really good reason perhaps).
It's ultimately up to the "workers" (deciders) but sometimes workers care what the community collectively feels. Should we go back a little closer to natural law and drain it according to the moon's cycles instead of the capitalist calendar?
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(This post is more or less just designed to start a debate. I don’t think it violates the sub’s rules, but apologies in advance if it does.)
The main reason one would support a far-left, anti-capitalists politics, specifically communist politics, is because Marx’s economic theories are correct.
Mainstream economics are fundamentally deficient. They might be able to describe patterns about the world, and sometimes they are able to formulate extremely sophisticated patterns about the world, but that does not mean that their theories are correct. Mainstream economics constitutes an amalgam of sometimes-accurate knowledge that ultimately does not properly correlate its contents.
Scarcity, supply and demand, and marginal utility are not an adequate understanding of value. The underlying premise is that value can be understood in terms of pure hazard. This, however, is not the case. In the long-term, socially necessary labor time will determine the value of commodities. While it may be true that there exist commodities that are not created using labor (an example might be a parcel of land), this would be an example of a commodity possessing a price without possessing a value. Such commodities are explicitly taken into account by Marx and integrated into his theory, and their existence in no way contradicts the idea that labor is ultimately what produces value. Imagine, for instance, walking into a supermarket to buy groceries. Every single object in that store is contingent on society’s social labor, which is rendered uniform and commensurable under the capitalist mode of production. Once you return to your house, every single object in it is precisely the same. These commodities are essential to creating value, and they are created by labor. Land, for instance, might not necessarily have to be combined with labor in order to be sold or be able to turn a profit (for instance, a park where you are charged a fee to be admitted), but these phenomena are ultimately contingent upon the social labor necessary to maintain human existence.
Further, wage labor’s function under capitalism is fundamentally the same as slave labor. Wage labor is, of course, ethically preferable. But this does not change the fact that its function is to enrich one class by another’s labor.
TL;DR — Mainstream economics is based purely on hazard and subjective experience and it does not adequately describe the material reality of political economy.

Found a vacant property 2 months ago and entered without causing any damage. I then obtained keys to the property.
I cleaned it. I moved furniture in. I cleaned the siding. I decorated the outside for Easter. I got utilities turned on. I closed problematic gaps with weather stripping and spray foam. I have almost gotten rid of the bugs. I mowed the grass. I built a retaining wall. Somebody I know (professional and qualified) is coming by next week to assess the foundation/structural integrity. My mail comes here now. My license says this address now. I obtained a lease.
All the neighbors wave at me and seem happy I’m here and improving the property. I haven’t spoken to them much. They don’t seem suspicious of me at all.
Still haven’t seen or heard from property owners. Haven’t had any problems. I never expected it to go this far. I didn’t have a plan.
Any advice on how to proceed? Located in Tennessee in the USA.
Edit: I also paid the property taxes last week.

Hiring professional cleaning services for your home or business can bring numerous benefits, including:

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6. Professional appearance: A clean and well-maintained space can give your home or business a professional and polished appearance. This can help attract customers or clients and leave a positive impression on them.
   
7. Tailored cleaning solutions: Professional cleaning services can provide tailored solutions to meet your specific cleaning needs. They can work with you to develop a cleaning plan that suits your budget, schedule, and preferences.
   
8. High-quality equipment and products: Professional cleaning services use high-quality equipment and products that are designed to deliver superior cleaning results. They have access to industrial-grade equipment and cleaning products that are not available to the general public.
   
9. Peace of mind: By hiring a professional cleaning service, you can enjoy peace of mind knowing that your space is being cleaned by experienced and trained professionals. You can trust that they will take care of your property and belongings while providing top-quality cleaning services.
   
10. Reduced stress: Cleaning can be a stressful and time-consuming task, especially for busy homeowners or business owners. By outsourcing your cleaning needs to a professional cleaning service, you can reduce stress and focus on other important aspects of your life or business.
    
11. Customizable cleaning schedules: Professional cleaning services can provide cleaning schedules that are tailored to your needs. They can work with you to create a cleaning plan that meets your budget and scheduling requirements.
    
12. Increased customer satisfaction: For businesses, a clean and well-maintained space can help increase customer satisfaction and loyalty. By hiring a professional cleaning service, you can ensure that your customers always enjoy a clean and welcoming environment.
    

As any experienced camper knows, a good clothesline is essential for keeping wet towels and clothes organized and dry. But with so many options on the market, it can be hard to know where to start. That's where we come in! We've tested and reviewed the best camping clotheslines to make your decision easier. So sit back, relax, and let us do the research for you.

TOP PICKS

• Best Overall: Riveda Retractable Clothesline
• Best Budget: Riveda Portable Travel Clothesline
• Best Lightweight: Sea to Summit Clothesline
• Best Heavy Duty: GorillaLine - Retractable Clothesline
• Best Portable: Coghlan's Camp Laundry Reel
• Best Versatile: CenYouful Portable Travel Clothesline
• Best Adjustable: Coghlan's 0433 Adjustable Bungee Clothesline
• Best Sturdy: Hillman TRV740803

BEST CAMPING CLOTHESLINE BUYING GUIDE

Durability and Strength

The durability and strength of a camping clothesline is essential for ensuring that it can withstand the outdoor elements and hold up heavy and wet items. Look for clotheslines made from durable materials such as stainless steel, nylon or polyester. The GorillaLine - Retractable Clothesline, for example, are made from durable stainless steel line.

Portability and Convenience

Portability and convenience are important factors to consider when selecting a camping clothesline. Look for clotheslines that are lightweight, compact and easy to set up and take down. The Sea to Summit Clothesline is a great example of a lightweight and portable option, as it packs down small and weighs just 1.3 ounces.

Length and Adjustability

The length and adjustability of a clothesline is another important feature to consider. Look for clotheslines that are long enough to accommodate your needs, but are also adjustable so you can customize the length as needed.

Versatility and Functionality

Consider the versatility and functionality of the clothesline. Look for clotheslines that can serve multiple purposes, such as being used as a clothesline, a gear organizer or even a makeshift shelter.

Weather Resistance

When camping, you never know what kind of weather you might encounter. Look for clotheslines that are weather-resistant, so you don't have to worry about them rusting or deteriorating in wet or humid conditions.

Ease of Use

Consider how easy the clothesline is to use. Look for clotheslines with simple, intuitive designs that are easy to set up and take down. The Riveda Retractable Clothesline, for example, has a retractable design that makes it easy to use and store, while the MalloMe Camping Clothesline has a simple clip-on design that makes it easy to attach and detach items.

Load Capacity

Load capacity is an essential factor to consider when selecting a camping clothesline. Look for clotheslines that can hold the weight of your wet clothes and gear without sagging or breaking.

Hi!
Anyone know a liquor store in Manhattan that sells Jeppson Malört? Perhaps also where it’s at a ok price.
Thanks!

I used to see a store option in the certification portal to view the aws certified merch. Can’t view it anymore, any ideas why or where else I can get the link?
I have the associate cert and ccp so should be able to access it.