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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got that wrong
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Like my brownhouse:
   poop hole, as opposed to shit hatch
Monday, October 19 2009
There was frost on the grass this morning, the first I'd seen of this season, though frosts had already been recorded down in Hurley (400 feet lower and something of a frost pocket). Seasonal evidence like this gives a certain urgency to the firewood collection effort, so today I hauled two cart's worth of wood from a large staging woodpile just beyond the Chamomile "River" (a couple hundred feet down the Stick Trail). The pieces were so large that I could only get six or seven of them onto the cart at one time.
At some point I gathered two large wheelbarrow loads of pine needles from the side of Dug Hill Road. I raked the needles into piles and then transfered them from the pile to the wheelbarrow by hand. I hadn't been thinking about the many dogs (including Sally) with a preference for crapping on the shoulder of the road, but the issue came prominently to my attention in the form of a cold, wet, chunky, fragrant brown substance between my fingers. Still, I couldn't let that stop me. Pine needles are one of the best forms of kindling available, and there is no easier time and place to collect them than Dug Hill Road in late October.
Using spray foam, I sealed the last of the tiny holes in the brownhouse's structure, both between the internal compartments and the outdoors and between the two internal compartments. Then I massively punctured a hole between the compartments by using a jigsaw to cut a large hole between the upper cabin and the lower composting basement. Eventually excrement will be falling ass over teakettle through this hole and landing with a wet thud into a 32 gallon trash can.


For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?091019

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