Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.


Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").


decay & ruin
Biosphere II
dead malls
Irving housing

got that wrong

appropriate tech
Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
Fractal antenna

fun social media stuff

(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
Thursday, January 20 2000
I was looking at a short ASP script at work, trying to figure where the problem was when an admin tool moved a message board from one directory to another and failed to change the item counts appropriately. It was such a glaring error that its cause should have been obvious by simply looking at the code, but in my workplace environment approaching 6pm, I was completely stumped. So I printed out the script and took it home with me. The moment I got home and looked at the source, I saw exactly what the problem was. The change of background scenery was all I needed to be able to see what needed to be seen, in this case a reference to the wrong variable in a stored procedure call.
Meanwhile, Sophie was pestering me for a walk, so I hooked her up to her leash and out the door we went. As usual, she was extremely excited by the impending adventure, snarfling, jumping around and tugging hard at the leash once I attached it to her. As we were going out the door, she gave an especially mighty tug that was strong enough to pull me off balance. As I felt myself falling, I reached around with my left hand for any stabilizing vertical surface, in this case the side of the door jam. Unfortunately, a split second before, when I'd not yet been destabilized, I'd given the door a powerful tug to propel it on a trajectory to slam shut behind me. It ended up slamming down hard on my left middle finger. The force of the door was sufficient to break my skin and cause a persistent bleed to ensue. After I was done dancing around the courtyard in intense pain, I put my finger in my mouth and sucked blood for the rest of the ten minute walk. Justified or not, I put some of the blame for my injury on Sophie, treating her somewhat cooly as she went about her errands investigating various doggy postings.
This evening Matt Rogers was hanging out with his mother and Kim was at work, so I was free to work on my own projects guilt-free and uninterrupted.

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