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Does that mean that Alina's death has ramifications beyond just opening the Crypt?

Too dumb or too self-centered?

Yes, I think I remember you said you're a super socks sorter.  I'm sure you mentioned it at some  point.

Time came, after Luis Aparicio was established in the AL, he was involved in a trade between Chicago and Boston.  The next day's headlines?  "After 12 Years, Aparicio changes Sox"

Amy, you have created a situation of great depth and complexity.  The payoff, if you can get everything just right, is huge.  But if you're having trouble, you should dial back carefully on what you are imputing to the characters and circumstances.  I suspect that you'll want to do that in one or two places, leaving those parts of the story untold.  But most of it I am expecting you'll tweak and fill in.

This is actually a question of detail and gestalt.  You need to go from the socks back to the pile.

I need to crash for an hour or two and then do a couple hours of noisy cleaning.  I'll look after that.

A modest rewrite, with some shading I want for later.

Don't get too excited.  I'm trying to figure out what to do next in the apartment, and I've got to get on with my life.

'Additional information' is exactly what is meant by a non-restrictive clause.  A restrictive clause specifies further which individuals/instances/occurences are meant; a non-restrictive clause (or other modifier) does not limit the instances, but only provides additional information.

I tripped over a 1997 copy of the AP stylebook.  They use 'essential' to mean 'restrictive' and 'non-essential' to mean 'non-restrictive'.

I would say the relative clause 'who is ...' is non-restrictive, precisely because 'favorite uncle' refers to one individual and further restriction is not possible.  This non-restrictive clause is parenthetical in effect (try it with Real Parentheses) and so should be set off by commas.

My control systems professor was a professionally irreverent fellow with whom I could never get along.  He knew enough to give me a miserable grade, which I certainly earned.  But I also kept my ears open for little things.

The computer center had acquired one of the first Altair computers with a little box monitor.  Nearly the only software we had for it was a lunar lander game.  Maybe one person in ten could get the lander down, one time in three, without it running out of fuel and crashing.

After my second failure, I remembered something that Professor C--- had said: often the optimums occur at extremes.  I thought about how this might apply and realized that using the lander's rocket thrusters at anything less than full power was wasteful, because the thrust fraction that corresponded to hovering thrust was throwing fuel away.

I started again, and this time used the minimum possible fuel to slow the lander out of orbit and orient it rocket-down.  I waited until I was about 60% of the way down, falling at a terrifying speed, and then used a full-power burn to slow the fall to near zero.  I did it again with the lander only a couple hundred meters up, and had enough fuel to make a soft landing with just a little to spare.

I also had an audience.  The person responsible for our Portable Slum (a story for another time) was watching, and he announced to the people in three rooms (full of noisy machinery) that I had succeeded.  And then ... "I bet you can't do it again!"

I should have made him put money on it.  He and a few others shouted "No! Use the rockets!  You're going to crash!" as I repeated the performance, ending with almost 20% of fuel remaining.

I silenced them and spoiled the game by discovering what the NASA folks knew: that the only way it could work is if you used partial burn for only a few seconds while making the soft touchdown.

Not as awesome as the guys who climbed up there and put all those parts together!  I was on a scaffold-floor under the roof.  Quite safe as long as you stayed away from the elevator machinery.  The high-voltage electrical parts stick out this way and that, exposed.

The first time I was hospitalized for an infection they were still using butterflies, which had to come out after three or four days.  It was time for the third one and the nurse didn't like any vein she could find. They called the floor doc and I was afraid they'd have to excavate for a vein.  The doc gave my forearm a light slap, saw a few veins he liked and set up for work, using the nurse as a tape-holder.

When he did the stick I barely felt it, and when he was done I thanked him profusely.  I've never had a less painful vein stick--or one more neatly taped.  Of course, now you have the needle-comes-out, tubing-stays-in arrangement.  Much less geometric taping.

Unfortunately, their first-thing-in-the-morning phlebotomist was a pain machine.

You mean my LIBRARY.