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:
   sandwiches and vodka
Friday, May 30 2014
Our friends Sandor & Eva came up early today to their weekend place in West Hurley, swinging by our house to borrow an ethernet cable. I puttered around in the garden transplanting tiny Brassicas from overcrowded clumps to emptier places while they sipped some sort of fancy lemonade leftover from our party. It was a gorgeous sunny day with the clouds from the opening sequence of the Simpsons, though it would get a little chilly whenever one of those clouds passed in front of the sun.
I have a small bump with healing scab on the back of my head. It seemed like maybe a tick bit (though I don't remember a tick being there). That wouldn't be cause for alarm, but yesterday morning I'd felt a tenderness to the skin and muscles below and to the right of that bump (down near the hair line on the back of my neck; not having a hairy back, such a hairline exists). This morning, that tenderness seemed perhaps a little worse, and I could feel a pathway of tenderness in my skin leading from that bump down to the neck hairline tenderness. The classic symptom for Lyme Disease is a bullseye rash centered on a tick bite, but it seemed possible that a rash could also spread asymmetrically in odd locations (such as on a scalp). To be on the safe side, I thought I'd ask our doctor friend Stacy to write me a script for a course of Doxycycline (something I once had one of the doctors in Gretchen's family do back when we had no insurance). Stacy had offered to do such things, but for some reason (perhaps liability concerns) she got cold feet on this matter, insisting that I go get blood work and all the usual bureaucratic medical crap, things that hadn't seemed important to Gretchen's father when Gretchen had told him about the huge rash I'd developed centered around my left armpit. Because of the bureaucratic headache necessary to lay my hands on antibiotics, I'm willing to give my symptoms a few more days to play out before I do anything about them. I wish there was a document I could file somewhere on my own behalf taking full responsibility for my own healthcare. I trust my knowledge enough to treat myself, at least for medical matters off this level of simplicity. Also, I want access to Adderall.

Gretchen went off to Accord this evening to some poetry thing, leaving me alone to subsist on a diet of sandwiches and vodka. I didn't end up watching any television for some reason. Eventually I relocated to the greenhouse upstairs and engaged in some half-hearted smoking of the marijuana.


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