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:
   Gretchen is back in her library
Wednesday, March 1 2017 Gretchen's lingering illness had me walking the dogs again this morning. The weather had once again turned unseasonably warm, though not quite as warm as it had been in the immediate aftermath of our Mexican vacation.
Though she wasn't yet 100%, today marked the first time that Gretchen retreated into her library to do whatever it is she intends to do down there (she has a manuscript of prison-related poems she is working to perfect). She'd turned on the heat and I'd also fetched her a space heater (since the library heater isn't quite enough). With her down there and me and my laboratory, it was easy for us to respectively feel as if we were all alone. That was the idea, of course. Such possible simultaneous remoteness was one of the reasons we'd been so excited about buying this house 14 years ago. But while my laboratory has been a success from the beginning, there's always been something wrong about Gretchen's library. For many years it stank of cat piss (after Gretchen foolishly allowed our friend Kirsty to temporarily lodge some kittens in there). And it's long had heating issues, which still haven't been completely resolved. But this recent renovation aims to finally and conclusively make it into a reasonable place to work in. Once the new heating improvements are made, it should be perfect. Until then, though, there's always that electric space heater.


For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?170301

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