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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   post-sick cleaning jihad
Tuesday, March 10 2020
It was really hard to do anything at work today except obsessively check news of the progress of the ongoing COVID-19 coronavirus pandemic. I'm sure I'm not the only one so obsessed. I've experienced a lot of crazy shit in my life, including the smell of the rubble of the collapsed towers of the World Trade Center, but nothing like what is about to happen (if Italy provides any indication).
When I got home this afternoon, I immediately took the dogs for a walk (this time through the abandoned go-cart track and then homeward). Then, back at the house, I made and ate a series of sandwiches and then launched into a multi-hour cleaning jihad. I needed to make the house presentable for Gretchen, who would be flying in from Austin, Texas this evening. The cleaning included scooping all the litter boxes, sweeping up and then vacuuming all accumulated detritus in the living room and stairs to the second floor, washing all the dishes, and then doing two loads of laundry so as to wash all sheets, pillow cases, and blankets I'd slept on for the past couple weeks. For part of that time, as you'll recall, I was sick and suffered from night sweats and fits of coughing. Also, last night one of the cats had vomitted on one of the blankets. While waiting for the second load to dry in the dryer, I took a nice hot bath with the latest issue of Nuts & Volts, the one with an article about building a cheap animal-tracking transmitter.
I was in bed when Gretchen arrived a little after 10:00pm. She'd had a relaxing flight in a plane with lots of empty seats and had felt so well-rested that she'd managed to do a Trader Joe's run when driving through Paramus, New Jersey.


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