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
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Irving housing

got that wrong

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(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
   the only one who was really trying to keep them small
Tuesday, December 17 2002

I mostly spent the day spackling the walls of the upstairs bathroom. This included all the smaller sub-spaces such as a narrow cubby into which my body can scarcely fit. At the very top it ends in a sharp 45 degree angle peak, and getting spackle into that peak with conventional spackle tools was impossible, so I was forced to use a small kitchen knife.
With no big construction tasks left except the upstairs bathroom, on our trips to Lowes we've turned our attention to procuring finishing details such as trim and wall plates. While we're on the subject of wall plates, I should make a sad commentary on the state of contractor workmanship in the mid-Hudson region. Almost none of the guys who installed any of our drywall knew how to cut a hole small enough for an electrical box that it doesn't show from behind the cover plate. Mind you, even some of my holes stick out, but it seems I was the only one who was really trying to keep them small, with the one exception being that drywall whiz kid whom Darren brought that one day.

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