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:
   in accordance with the precision I feel
Saturday, August 3 2019

location: rural Hurley Township, Ulster County, New York, United States of America

The day after returning from vacation is always a busy one, what with all the email and phonecalls and other accumulated business. I'd only received one package from China (some USB-to-serial adapters), so at least I didn't have to process more than one parcel of cheap electronics. Typical tasks include removing all the clothes from my backpack and loading it directly into the washing machine and returning all the foreign travel electrical adapters and 100 milligram bottles I use to smuggle liquor to the laboratory. I also have a lot of online journal tasks. In addition to processing and digesting down all the photos and trying to write something for every day, I have to establish a latitude and longitude for the beginning of every day, something I've been doing since 2002. I can't always be precise when I do this, though sometimes I can, and I allocate digits to those values in accordance with the precision I feel that I can attain. These days I can usually log these coordinates using my phone, though sometimes I forget to do that and then have to pore over Google Maps in hopes of finding the places where I spent the night.
Late this afternoon, I took a break from all of that to go add some stones to the wall I've been building near the Stick Trail a hundred feet or so south of the Chamomile crossing. (For some reason, Gretchen doesn't like this wall, which surprises me given that one of the things that initially attracted her to the Catskills was all the stone walls.)
Later, after a bath (we'd had a bathtub in our bathroom on the Vasco da Gama, but it had been tiny and its shape had tended to compress my shoulders together uncomfortably), I was feeling tired, so I climbed into bed. By then, a heavy rain was falling outside. I was asleep by 8:00pm. Meanwhile, Gretchen was working a rare afternoon shift at the Golden Notebook in Woodstock.


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