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:
   ghetto electrical wiring abomination
Monday, April 1 2024

location: rural Hurley Township, Ulster County, NY

Though I hadn't had any alcohol yesterday, I nevertheless experienced a low-grade hangover, the consequences of my drinking on Saturday night at the cabin. Clearly my body can't do that sort of thing any more. One-day hangovers are bad enough (and I have rituals in place to discourage me from ending up with them), but life is too short for two-day hangovers. Clearly I need more self-imposed rules to keep those from happening. For now, the rule is that every day of a hangover counts as an additional hangover for the purposes of penance for them.
Soon after Gretchen left for her shift at the bookstore in Woodstock, Neville seemed eager for a walk. So I seized the opportunity and took him and Charlotte into the forest west of the Farm Road. They abandoned me and had their own adventure well before I found my way down the escarpment down the Farm Road near its southern end.
Among the things I did today was bring the extension ladder into the living room and climb up to the new ceiling fan to make some adjustments. There was an imperfection on the translucent plastic cover for the LED lights that was annoying Gretchen, so I wanted to deal with that. I'd thought it was a label that could be peeled off, but it was actually a small logo ("TCL") that had been painted on in silver paint. After lots of aggressive scrubbing with a paper towel soaked in paint thinner, I was able to completely remove it. Then I turned my attention to another feature of the light setup: a bulb in a socket just above the tiny collar tie (the structure the ceiling fan hangs from) that I could turn on from an independent light switch. This hadn't been working, and I assumed it was due to my having destroyed the lamp dimmer it was connected to with a ill-placed short. But even with a new dimmer, the socket wouldn't energize. So I removed the socket (one of those simple white porcelain things you find in basements) and tried installing a simple duplex outlet. This worked, but there was something wrong with the holes in the metal junction box it needed to attach to making it impossible to attach. So I just left the whole thing flapping in the breeze. It's the kind of ghetto electrical wiring abomination I wouldn't normally countenance, but working so far up on a ladder, I didn't feel like risking my life enough to get it right. Besides, it's so far away from any humans that it hardly matters. And now I have another source of illumination for our notoriously under-illuminated living room.

Before Gretchen returned from Woodstock, I cooked up two packages of pierogies with mushrooms, onions, and spinach. It looked pretty good, but one of the two kinds of pierogies had a weird flavor that neither of us much liked.

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