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:
   technically satisfying an agreement with myself
Sunday, October 27 2013
I made a deal with myself today that I would not do any more work in the greenhouse first floor until I'd accomplished a specific milestone with my Lightroom-to-server integration experiments. That milestone was the FTPing of more than one file in a single operation, a milestone that came much more quickly than expected once I actually started doing the experimenting. I didn't actually have to write any code to pull it off; all I had to do was select multiple images in Lightroom and execute the FTP export demo. Technically, then, I reached this milestone on a technicality. But I had a milestone in the greenhouse I wanted to accomplish too, so I let that technicality satisfy that agreement with myself.
So I queued up some podcasts, mixed up a gallon of wet Portland cement, and proceeded to spackle it onto some fibreglass mesh I'd put around the east-facing windows of the greenhouse first floor. It ended up being a fairly large cement veneer job; I actually had to go mix another half-gallon two-thirds of the way through. Once I've touched up the imperfections in this veneer (and there are always imperfections, usually in the form of visible fibreglass mesh), it's unlikely I'll be further veneering anything else down there (except, perhaps, unstable walls hewn into the bedrock).
Once I was done with the veneering (which is never a pleasant job), I allowed myself the dessert of further excavating the western half of the floor, though I didn't make much progress. I've reached an impossibly hard layer of bluestone and I can't go outward much more without undermining the structure of the wooden deck that is the floor for the east half. Before I can do much more, I'll have to install some temporary supports. But once I rip out the one-foot-high wall of flimsy shale between the east and west halves, I can start attacking that impossibly-hard layer of bluestone from the east. The east half of the greenhouse floor is excavated approximately four feet deep and I can see from that side that the hard layer of bluestone is no more than about six inches thick.
When I finally went back to the house after all of this work, I found Gretchen had returned from her trip to Boston.


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