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:
   slow on my feet
Saturday, August 24 2013
This morning when I got out of bed and took my first steps, I wondered if I would be able to do much walking today. Both my feet hurt; my right foot was still recovering from a splinter it absorbed in the Adirondacks and my left foot was badly bruised around the site of where a rotating phillips screwdriver point burrowed into it yesterday. The bruising is so extensive that it even affects the sole of that foot (though the tip entered from the top). As for the wound itself, it has yet to seal itself with a proper scab and keeps weeping a clear fluid. Ramona likes to lick it and, as she does so, she acts like she is performing a necessary medical service. If it were just her tongue doing the work, that might be fine, but she also involves her incisors.
Happily, though, once I'd moved around a bit, my feet gradually became comfortable with walking.
I spent much of the day preparing for tomorrow's big party. Late this morning, I mowed the grass and then weed-whacked what the mower couldn't reach. Since there is now a screen tent in our yard, I had to do more prep work getting objects out of the way.

This evening, the party-prep jihad moved indoors, and mostly involved vacuuming. Meanwhile Gretchen continued preparing a diverse array of foods, all of which were designed to be eaten without utensils or plates.

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