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").



links

decay & ruin
Biosphere II
Chernobyl
dead malls
Detroit
Irving housing

got that wrong
Paleofuture.com

appropriate tech
Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
Fractal antenna

fun social media stuff


Like asecular.com
(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
   delumpification
Wednesday, January 31 2018
This morning Gretchen and I got up a little earlier than usual to take Neville to the Hurley vet to have that lump carved out of his face. I came along because Gretchen needed something notarized with both of our signatures. But once we got to our credit union (also on Hurley Avenue) it turned out that I didn't have my driver's license. I'd left it on the scanner in the laboratory after scanning it (as part of the hassle of setting up that Coinbase account).

This afternoon the vet called to tell me that Neville's surgery had gone well and he would be ready for pickup at 3:00pm. He said the mass didn't look cancerous. Instead, it looked like a reaction to something, perhaps a lingering porcupine quill from the summer. He'd dug through the mass to see if he could find such a thing, but if it was in there, it eluded him.
After the last meeting of the day, I drove out to the Hurley vet and picked Neville up. Somehow the surgery had come to $1400, most of which probably for tests to see what exactly what the mass was comprised of. The vet had done a great job with the incision. It was about five inches long, but ran low along Neville's jaw line, meaning the scar will be hidden in the lower edge of Neville's face. He was making the persistent high-pitch squealy noise I remember him making from other times when he's been in pain (like after being hit by a car or fraying his cruciate ligaments by going on a long run through the forest), so he clearly wasn't loving his recovery. The only medication he'd been prescribed was carprofen, which is a fairly weak painkiller.
On an indirect route home, I stopped (as you probably have anticipated) at the Tibetan Center thrift store. There I bought two different kinds of kitchen tongs (for non-kitchen use) as well as two different kits of colorful magnetic shapes that can be arranged on a whim on any iron-rich surface (such as a refrigerator). One kit featured little one-centimeter wooden cubes and the other featured colorful curvy wooden shapes, not unlike the kind that can be made by cutting up magnetic bumper ribbons of the kind used to show support for "the troops" back in the early 2000s (when we'd foolishly thought we were plumbing the nadir of the American experience).
[REDACTED]


For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?180131

feedback
previous | next