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:
   soggy, slimy, covered with mushrooms
Saturday, October 13 2018
We had a relatively brief Saturday morning coffee ritual in the living room before Gretchen headed off to see Ask For Jane, a highly-relevant movie about late-pre-Roe-vs-Wade feminist abortionists in Chicago in the early 1970s.
I climbed back in bed soon after Gretchen left, and the dogs climbed in with me. It was cold enough in the house for bed to be the most appealing place to be. We all soon fell asleep.
At around 1:00pm, I got up and took the dogs for a walk. We went down the Farm Road and then over to the abandoned go-cart tracks and headed back northward on the plateau west of the Farm Road. I lost both dogs along the way and they didn't come home for hours.
Back at the house, I turned my attention to the Subaru, which was already up on those plastic wheel ramps I have for raising it up. I climbed underneath and tightened up the pipe clamps holding on the split-boot fix on the CV joint I'd repaired and then took another several stabs at trying to remove the old oxygen sensor. I tried brute-forcing it out with the new flexible socket wrench, but all it kept doing was twisting the metal around it and then snapping back. I even tried heating the pipe the sensor was screwed into with a flame of burning MAP gas and then squirting in WD-40. But nothing worked. After a few more tries sprinkled into the evening, it was obvious that I really did need assistance of professionals. All our other options had been exhausted, so Gretchen did some research and found a mom & pop shop with good Yelp reviews. She'll be taking it there sometime this coming week.

The weather was sunny and cool, perfect for outdoor tasks. So another chore I tackled this afternoon was the processing of more of the raw firewood that has been piled up in front of the woodshed for more than two years now. It was all soggy, slimy, covered with mushrooms, and even somewhat buried in the dirt. But inside, it was all mostly good wood still. I split it up and stacked it in the woodshed, closing in on the completion of the back tranche.

This evening I was craving spaghetti at the New Paltz Diner, though Gretchen was less enthusistic (as she'd already been out twice in the car). She told me that if I did all the driving, then we could go. So that's what we did tonight. We were seated next to a couple of very fat people, the woman of whom had strapped on a bib before tucking into her food. She caught me staring at her, and I felt embarrassed. They looked old and in terrible shape, though I think they might've been younger than us.
The Prius indicated the outdoor temperature to be 46 degrees, which was as cool as it's yet been this season. Back at the house, Gretchen convinced me to make a fire, the first real fire of the season. (We'd had a few for Saturday morning coffee, but that was more atmospheric than anything else.) While driving back from New Paltz, we'd heard an amazing Roberta Flack song on the Heavy Light Show on WDST, so Gretchen made me download some of her music (as well as the movies Shut Up And Sing and Love And Mercy).


For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?181013

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