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:
   imperfect delivery
Tuesday, July 7 2020
Today I felt completely healthy all day for the first time since Thursday. The message of the long July Fourth weekend was something I already kind of knew: I can't be drinking like I did when I was younger. The truth of the matter is that most of the time drinking isn't all that much fun anyway. Occasionally, though, it is a lot of fun. If I could just figure out how to restrict my drinking to those occasions, I'd have my alcohol consumption completely figured out.
This morning a little before 8:00am, there was a knock at the door that turned out to be, as I immediately assumed it would, Powerful's parole officer. He'd been unable to reach Powerful by phone and so had driven over to deliver something and ask a few questions. Powerful was still in his room in the basement at the time, so his parole officer had to go down and knock on his door. He'd forgotten what room was Powerful's, though, and first tried knocking on one of the doors to Gretchen's library.
While Gretchen and Powerful were out shopping this afternoon, I impulsively dragged the new tub (which weighs about 100 pounds and was still in its box) up the stairs to a staging area in the teevee room. The box made for a tight fit in the stairway, and I was little worried that as I tugged on the box from the top that it disintegrate like a turtle egg and the tub would go sailing down the stairs. But fortunately I made it all the way up and nothing bad happened. I will probably have to remove one or more of the doors between the teevee room and the bathroom to get the tub in there, but that will be for another day.

This afternoon, a box arrived from FedEx containing a bunch of fruits and vegetables, some of them rotten, mixed with various groceries. This was a delivery from Imperfect Foods, a company that tries to capitalize on cosmetically-suspect produce. They subsidize some of the costs of the shipment by including conventional shelf-stable groceries. This might be good in theory, but this delivery had gone badly pear-shaped by the time it arrived. For starters, it had spent too long in shipment, and all the frozen gel packs had thawed out and gone to room temperature. And the produce was so loose in the box that it had careened around and aggravated existing imperfections. And at some point one of the gel packs had ruptured. It made for a mess when we opened the box. We had to rinse off the gel and rotten nectarines from the packaged food and then throw the gel pack into the yard before it could leak all over the kitchen. Gretchen had already canceled her membership in Imperfect Foods, so this order ended up being free. The whole thing seems like a terrible idea for a dotcom food delivery business, at least in this form. But they're probably still drowning in investor money.
I was, however, able to immediately eat about 30% of one of the rotten nectarines. The parts that weren't rotten were delicious.

Powerful must've been sleeping this evening after Gretchen made a multi-course meal built around roasted potatoes, green beans, brussels sprouts, barbecue seitan, and polenta with tomatoes and capers. He never responded to Gretchen's text saying that dinner was ready. The vegetables had all come via that box from Imperfect Foods.

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