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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   burning Stick Trail sticks
Thursday, February 11 2021
After achieving some minor victory in my remote workplace, I grabbed my big battery-powered electric chainsaw and wood-hauling backpack and went on a salvaging foray only about 200 feet south of the house on the Stick Trail, where I managed to find some good dry wood under bumps in the snow. Some of this came in the form of logs I've used to define the edges of the Stick Trail, material I probably wouldn't've considered had there not been snow. Some of that had lain on the ground the whole eighteen years we've lived here without rotting much at all. Most of the wood was chestnut oak, though there were also a couple solid pieces of ironwood (that is, Ostrya virginiana, an uncommon firewood species).

I drank kratom tea instead of caffeine all day today, and late in the day I ate a few nuggets of canabis in hopes of it pleasantly altering my evening (like it did a week or so ago). But nothing much came of it. For some reasn it's very difficult to meter the dose of pot when one is eating it.


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