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:
   don't need no stainless steel hoses
Thursday, July 18 2019
We'd be turning our house over to housesitters on Saturday, so after I got home from work today, I did a little vacuuming and also washed the nasty bathtub where I take all my baths. After a dinner of leftovers (jazzed up with tortellini!), Gretchen and I went to Best Buy on a rare evening retail errand. We wanted our tenant in the Downs Street brick mansion to get a replacement washing machine as soon as possible, and the best of our available options lay at Best Buy. We'd be getting a so-called "portable" washing machine, which would be a better fit for the small available space, and for some extra money we could have them do the installation and remove the old washing machine, a chore that I'd been hoping to avoid (just getting the old washing machine out of that hobbit hallway will require the temporary removal of the dryer as well). The new washing machine was not in stock, so the only thing we were doing at Best Buy was filling out the paperwork and paying with a credit card. Sneakily, either the salesman (he seemed nice) or Best Buy's computer picked fancy stainless steel hoses for the required additional hose purchase. (Best Buy refuses to install with old hoses due to liability issues.) I made sure that those hoses were removed from the purchase and replaced with cheap rubber hoses, which I know from experience are perfectly adequate for this sort of installation. Oddly, we were not asked if we wanted to buy the extended warranty. I thought asking about that was a job requirement at Best Buy.
I'd taken 100 milligrams of diphenhydramine even before we'd gone to Best Buy, so by the time we got back home, I was more than ready to crawl into bed.


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