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:
   pseudoephedrine and sandwich bags
Sunday, February 21 2021
It was partly sunny yesterday and even sunnier today, the sort of conditions that greatly reduces our daytime firewood consumption. This is because the days are getting longer, and, with all the snow on the ground, we get more sun shining into our house than would be the case were there not any snow at all.
I'd run out of pseudoephedrine, and the only place I knew for sure I could get it in its pure (non-Nexafed) form was the CVS across the Hudson in Red Hook. So this afternoon I drove over there (with the dogs) and got another 96-count box. While at the CVS, I also got a box of sandwich bags, which I use for the storage of wall warts and other small corded devices (to keep the cords from getting tangled with those of other devices).
Back at the house, I took 150 mg of pseudoephedrine and started puttering around like a crackhead. One of the things I did was finally caulk the seam between the new upstairs bathtub and the tiles it sits on, thus preventing a source of occasional leaks.
In the laboratory, I realized that a couple golf trophies were taking up room in a plastic bin that would be perfect for the storage of laptop power bricks. These trophies (which appear to be made of a metal such as pewter and originally came from a dumpster in West Los Angeles circa the year 2000) make for great ceiling hooks to more-accessibly store things like USB cables. But to attach them to the ceiling, I needed some sort of bolt anchor into which I could screw the quarter-inch threads coming out of the trophies' bases. So I climbed into the Subaru a second time and drove to Herzog's, where I got two different kinds of bolt anchors (one made of steel and the other made of lead). While there, I also got a few provisions from the Hannaford, including zip-lock sandwich bags, bloody mary mix, two plastic rectangular containers intended for the storage of food, and a couple Monster-brand energy drinks (for something to drink while I drive during my ongoing alcohol fast, now in its 28th day).

This evening I made my usual Sunday night spaghetti dish, though this time I was forced to use the quinoa/brown rice pasta, since we didn't have the conventional stuff (and Gretchen, for some reason, seems to like that particular type of spaghetti). She and I were watching Jeopardy! when Powerful got home from a three hour absence. It turned out that he'd gone on a conventional date with a real woman, the kind whose affection one does not have to pay for. It was his first real date since he got out of prison (and thus his first real date since he was sixteen years old back in 1996). He'd met the woman via Facebook, she's 47 years old, and lives in Newburgh. The date went so well that there was even a kiss.
Gretchen wanted to watch a movie with me, and for some reason the one she wanted to see was that flick from the 1990s called Tank Girl (which I'd never seen). We made it about a half hour in before we both decided Tank Girl was unwatchable. It wasn't just that the movie was highly stylized and cartoonish, although that was definitely the case. It was also that the characters were all extremely shallow and unbelievable, with our heroine making funny quips even after unspeakable suffering and loss. There just wasn't enough substance in the movie to justfiy all the masochistic violence. We've been too spoiled by good content to watch crap like that.
So then we watched a download of Promising Young Woman, a much better movie about a woman who seeks revenge on date rapists by feigning drunkenness and then snapping out of the act once the would-be rapist has his fingers in her vagina.

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