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").


decay & ruin
Biosphere II
dead malls
Irving housing

got that wrong

appropriate tech
Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
Fractal antenna

fun social media stuff

(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
   laboratory chipmunk
Tuesday, May 24 2022
At noon, I drove out to Kingston's ugly motor mile on 9W, mostly to get supplies at Lowes. But I also stopped at the 9W Hannaford to feed deposit cans and bottles into a refund-giving/bottle-smashing/can-crunching robot. I then went into the Hannaford to get more beers (all of them single esoteric microbrews in large 19.2 oz. cans) and a bottle of generic antacids. There were a good many people in the store wearing masks (about 25%), which is pretty good given the ending of all mask mandates. 25% must be the fraction of people in society willing to take actions to protect themselves irrespective of what the law currently dictates. I was, or course, among that 25%.
There were somewhat fewer people wearing masks in Lowes, which makes sense given the demographic of shoppers there. Among the things I bought were three large deck-rail-mount planters, a $35 seven inch DeWalt wetsaw blade, yet more half-inch pex crimp rings, some transparent vinyl hose, and a good number of copper fittings. Those latter items are for making further improvements to the Ruud hot water heater connections up at the cabin.
Due to my continuing troubles with insect bites inflicted last weekend, I took a rare second bath in two days. That was where I was when I learned about the latest mass school shooting, this time in Texas. Meanwhile Powerful had made Impossible Burgers with all the fixings, so I concluded my bath a little earlier than I otherwise would've so I could join him and Gretchen for dinner. I'd finished off the last four or five pupusas for lunch and hadn't expected to have much of an appetite. But apparently they don't stick to one's ribs.
At some point today, a live chipmunk that Diane the Cat had released in the upstairs bedroom found his way into the laboratory. He then hid amongst the clutter in the northwest corner and made the occasional warbling shriek terrestrial alarm call. In an effort to help the chipmunk find his way out, I put a long stick through the window and down to the part of the floor where I'd seen him briefly. I then turned off the lights and closed the door to keep out the cats for the night. I hoped he would find the stick and, because it was the closest thing in the laboratory to something in his natural environment, he would climb it, finding his way to the laboratory deck. From there, I guess he'd have to do some kind of hail mary leap, because chipmunks are not much like squirrels when it comes to getting around on roofs or in trees.

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