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").



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Like my brownhouse:
   bed overcrowding
Monday, January 14 2008
There was a little snow last night, but not quite enough to need shoveling. This was a good thing, since Eleanor had to be dropped off at the vet this morning at 8:30 to have her knee bandage removed, and neither Gretchen nor I am normally out of bed at that time.
Due to the overcrowding of the smaller downstairs mattress (Sally, Eleanor, Clarence, Gretchen, and even Sylvia), I've resumed sleeping in the upstairs bedroom, where I usually start out with just the Baby but (by morning) often end up with Sally, Julius (aka Stripey), Clarence, and even Eleanor. The whole point of sleeping downstairs was to keep Eleanor from making use of stairs, but if the barricades are open and someone is sleeping upstairs, she's as eager for a change of scene as anyone else.
I've noticed that the animals will sleep with me anywhere I go, though some have wider ranges than others. In the warm weather sometimes I sleep in one of the basement guest rooms, and I'll usually end up with a Julius and maybe a Sally on top of me.
Sylvia shuffles her range around from time to time - in the warm weather she keeps to the basement and in the cold weather she restricts herself to the teevee room. But recently she's been hanging out in Eleanor's barricaded area in the first floor office, spending most of her time with Gretchen (who hangs out on the mattress for long hours every day, either reading or watching teevee).
Meanwhile the Baby restricts herself to the upstairs bedroom, coming out only to eat or to use her litter box. Last winter the Baby used to hang out on the ottoman in front of the woodstove but Wilma no longer permits her there. The ottoman has become the capital of Wilma's shrunken empire. It is now down to about a thousand square feet, and as it has shrunk she has guarded it with increasing ruthlessness. Occasionally Wilma attacks other cats who venture into the living room (particularly Clarence, but also Julius). She will also drive other cats from the top of the dining room table, where we keep a dish of food just for her antisocial ass. Since Wilma will no longer venture into the laundry room, we've been forced to keep a litter box for her in the living room (or else encounter her feces and urine on the throw rugs).


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