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:
   a lot of sauerkraut
Sunday, July 11 2021
In the middle of the night, I awoke to the sound of some sort of liquid making a sharp turn in my lower gut. This was accompanied with some pain, and I knew diarrhea was in my future. I got up and sat on the toilet, but things weren't quite ready. But then I also started feeling nauseated. Maybe I was going to vomit instead. I could feel sweat being suddenly squeezed out of every pore. Not knowing what orifice I was going to explode from, I decided to play it safe by going down to the brownhouse. It wasn't long before I finally shat out some sort of foul substance, a process that left me so weak I didn't even bother trying to wipe my ass. I went into the greenhouse and lay face-down on the couch until I could recover some energy. Then I went back to the house and made good use of the spray hose in the upstairs bathroom. By then, I was feeling almost completely recovered, as if my body's expulsion of whatever it had found a problem with had been a complete success. I don't know what that could've been. The last thing I'd eaten was home-made hummus with Ritz crackers, and before that I'd eaten two different kinds of pasta, one of which had been made by Rebecca, Sarah the Vegan's friend. So those were the suspect substances. But I'd also eaten two smallish nuggest of cannabis, which usually cause no digestive problems whatsoever.
Perhaps because of that night-time experience of gut dysphoria, today I mostly lived on little sandwiches made with slabs of seitan, pro-biotic sauerkraut, mayonnaise, pickled Italian peppers, and cheap burger buns leftover from Powerful's party. That's a lot of gluten, but it's also a lot of sauerkraut.
It's been very rainy for the past couple weeks or so, and today was no exception. Initially, though, it wasn't raining, and this provided just enough of a good-weather window for some moron to shoot a gun down at the bus turnaround. When the rain started coming down, though, I knew I could finally take a bath in peace. I love taking baths on rainy days, something I'd come to expect in a Pavlovian way when I was a kid and the household water was supplied by a rain-filled cistern. To maximize cistern capacity, then, the best time to bathe was during prolonged rain storms, when there was a likelihood that the cistern would overflow.

When I remove a hard drive from service on an important computer (such as my work-issued laptop or my main computer, Woodchuck), I always place it aside for awhile (that is, years) in case there is something I need on it that I failed to copy to its replacement or as a backup should the replacement fail completely. I'd never actually needed to salvage anything off such a drive until today, when I fired up an old 2 TB hard drive in hopes of recovering an old Basilisk disk image having my entire collection of classic 680X0 Macintosh software. That drive had last been in service in 2010, and I couldn't read anything from it (perhaps my enclosure power supply wasn't powerful enough or it was actually a Linux volume from an old version of my NAS; it was labeled only with a date). So I fell back to a 1.5 TB hard drive removed from Woodchuck June 5th, 2012. That had everything I wanted, as well as a few other things I copied as well. All the data I wanted was intact, though that drive hadn't been spun up in over nine years.


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