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:
   cowbird fledge
Monday, June 6 2022

location: rural Hurley Township, Ulster County, NY

Gretchen had brought a number of goodies home from Clementine, a vegan bakery in Brooklyn, and this morning when I got up early (a little before 6:00am, actually) and picked some sort of muffin containing a cherry-based filler and ate the whole thing. If I'm going to eat something like that, it's probably going to be in the morning, and I might even like it. This time, though, I felt kind of meh about it. But I need to eat something in the morning if I'm going to start drinking black tea (as I normally am).
Some hours later, Gretchen appeared in the laboratory door and asked if I'd really eaten all of that cherry muffin. I admitted that I had and that I wouldn't've had I known she wanted it. She proceeded to tell me how much she'd been looking forward to it, and I felt terrible. I couldn't bear telling her that I hadn't actually thought it was amazing. We agreed that in the future I would be sure to ask what exactly I could and could not eat when she brings something exciting home from a restaurant or a bakery.
In the remote workplace today, I managed to finally get my problematic Python-assisted Azure DevOps build pipeline working without problems. But then there was a database fiasco (something I had nothing to do with and for which I wasn't responsible) and I couldn't really debug my pipeline any more.
At around lunch, I noticed a bird standing on the rail of the east deck. I could tell it was freshly-fledged by the extra material at the corners of its beak-mouth. But what species was it? It was brownish-grey with a speckled belly. Then I realized it was a freshly-fledged cowbird. And the phoebe nest above the east deck's outdoor light was no longer occupied. Apparently the phoebes in that nest had been cuckolded by a cowbird, the most common North American nest parasite.
At lunch today, I drove to Uptown to return my deposit cans and bottles at the Hannaford can-crushing robot. But that robot gets a lot of use, and it was out of commission (as it often is). So I left my cans and bottles for the next person who finds the machine working. They likely need the deposit money more than I do. I then bought groceries, but not that many: peanut butter, bloody mary mix, and a four-pack of a Belgian-style beer (because I'm growing weary of IPAs).
At Herzog's, I bought more hardware and such for the cabin: white silicone caulk, white latex caulk, a variety of screws that may or may not work with the escutcheon on the upstair's bathroom's shower faucet (the supplied bolt was too short, and I'd thought I'd brought it with me, but then I couldn't find it and had to guess). I also wanted small "j hooks" (though I couldn't think of the term) to allow me to attach an oval mirror to the new medicine cabinet door. Not able to find any, I bought the longest eighth-inch-thick machine screws I could find, with the thought of perhaps cutting off the heads and bending them into hooks.
At the end of the workday, I took my customary Monday-evening bath, even though I'd also had a Sunday evening bath. Those weekends at the cabin are hard on my body and I need a good soak in hot water. Also, my feet are always a bit of a mess after stumbling over uneven ground studded with little stumps to stub my toes on. I'm also attempting again (after an 18 month hiatus) to treat my toenail fungus. Hoping the antifungal salve could penetrate better into the little voids and caverns in my thickened fungus-affected big-toe nails, this evening I used a file to cut deep grooves into them.
At dusk, I wanted to retire early to bed, but the dogs were on the bed in a way that made getting the blankets in order too much of an ordeal. So I went and slept in the greenhouse, where I knew I would sleep like a baby.


The cowbird that was likely raised by a pair of phoebes in a nest above the east deck's light.


For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?220606

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