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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   my hooked screwdriver tool
Saturday, September 19 2015
With an MP3 player filled with fresh new podcasts, I no longer had to hike within the range of my FM transmitter. So I took the dogs on a big loop that involved the Farm Road and the entire length of the Stick Trail. Near the place where I'd gathered firewood yesterday, I gathered some fallen Chestnut Oak. When I weighed the load back at the woodshed, it came to 105.85 pounds.

Because Gretchen may ultimately decide to rip up all the shag carpet in her library and replace it with those tiles of faux wood I've been installing, when installing tiles today, I was careful when I cut the tiles to make it so the resulting pieces would work to precisely complete a full run all the way to the north wall of the library. For now, of course, they only had to make it at least half way there.
At some point when I was about 75% done, I had to unload all the poetry books from Gretchen's special thin-dish poetry bookshelf, which I made for her as a birthday present back in 2007, and remove the bookshelf from its place on the wall at the place where the new floor meets the part that remains under shag carpet. I was careful to arrange all the removed books in the order they'd been shelved on the floor of a closet whose floor I'd already resurfaced.
When my flooring project reached the east wall, it was a little tricky to get the final "plank" to lock in place, but to help me I had a tool I'd been using in similar such places: a screwdriver whose tip I'd heated until it glowed and then bent into a flat hook. It was good to finish the library (at least for now) because Gretchen would be returning tonight from Cambridge (Massachusetts) and I wanted her to be suitably impressed with all I'd achieved.
Also along those lines, I did what seemed like an endless series of chores: washing the dishes, folding and putting away laundry in the dryer, scooping clumps from the cat litter (and burying them in the garden), and refilling all the various water bowls set out for critters to drink from.

Gretchen returned this evening as I was throwing a stick insect off the east deck (he or she had somehow found his or her way to the stairway in the middle of the house, which is not a good place for a stick insect). From the deck, I saw a pair of headlights slow down and then turn into our driveway.


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