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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   outsourced basement cleaning jihad
Sunday, June 25 2017
Tomorrow, Gretchen's childhood friend Dina and her family would be arriving en masse from Boston, so the house and yard would need to be cleaned up. Since the family would be staying in the basement, the level of cleaning would be an unusually high one (the basement is only occasionally within the scope of a household cleaning jihad). Fortunately Andrea, who is still living in our master guestroom, had said she would clean the entire basement, including the nasty middle bathroom where I like to take my baths. (I clean the tub before every use, but afterwards it always looks like someone hosed down a wookiee in there.) I was free to turn my attention to the yard, whose mowing was my main task today. I did the bulk of the mowing in the early afternoon, then took something of a Silkwood shower to scrub away any fragments of poison ivy (I'd undertaken a major ground offensive against poison ivy encroaching from the strip of woods between our yard and the Farm Road). After that I took a nice nap in the greenhouse upstairs and then, after awaking, did a complete weed wacking. I also did some garden work, tearing out weeds and putting stakes and wire cages in for the beans and tomatoes to grow on. I should mention that we've had terrible germination rates for any plants growing from seed. Many-year-old pole beans seem to germinate just fine, but everything in seed packets has been terrible. There's been no spinach, three or four purple lettuce plants (from hundreds of broadcast seeds), and only one pea plant. I even bought a brand new packet of organic burpee lettuce seeds at Home Depot, and nothing came from it at all. (Though this might just indicate that there is no turnover of organic seeds at Home Depot.)

Gretchen came home from her shift at the bookstore hungry (or perhaps even hangry), so I whipped us up a dinner of spinach spaghetti and faux-meat meatballs.


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