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:
   911 not called
Tuesday, February 26 2019

location: rural Hurley township, Ulster County, New York, USA

I woke up at six-something this morning, so that didn't make for much sleep. As I got ready for my day, I brought in some wood from the woodshed. Our house sitter had burned nearly all of the third of a cord I'd stacked in the living room, so I had to tap the third tranche in the woodshed. I arrived at work at around 8:00am and went on to have a reasonably-productive day. I even had a meeting where I accounted for the Electron app I've been working on for the past three months, and it was the best meeting about it so far, which suggests the misery has been worth it.
On the drive home tonight, a reddish sedan suddenly cut in front of me on 9G when I was making the left turn onto Route 199. That seemed weird, but within the realm of possibility. But then that same car proceeded to weave dramatically back and forth between the center yellow lines and the shoulder in a way that suggested worse distraction than just a cellphone. I followed at a distance, watching an oncoming car swerve to avoid it on the Kingston-Rhinecliff bridge. The swerving car eventually exited onto 9W southbound. Should I have followed it? Should I have called 911? I've watched YouTube videos where such cars were followed until they had terrible accidents, but I had my own life to live, interesting though that might've been.
Back at the house, my pre-bath evening was mostly spent fixing technical problems. Gretchen's computer needed to be reminded to boot from its SSD, not its mechanical drive. And the paper tray in the Brother laser printer for some reason needed to be swapped with the tray from a bad Brother printer we've abandoned under the green chair that Sally the Dog used to like to sleep on.

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