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
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Irving housing

got that wrong

appropriate tech
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Like my brownhouse:
   temeph goes bad after three weeks in a refrigerator
Monday, June 20 2022

location: rural Hurley Township, Ulster County, NY

I had gut discomfort throughout the day, the kind that had me eating generic Pepto-Bismol. It felt like a hangover, but my drinking yesterday hadn't been of a pattern that produces one. I was not in a great mindspace to work on that stored procedure logging project I'd been procrastinating, but I eventually made a small amount of progress on it, enough to set me up for a burst of work tomorrow morning before work, the time when actually do most of the work I get paid for these days.
After work I took my customary Monday evening bath. Meanwhile Gretchen was delayed in returning from the bookstore because she had gone swimming at Onteora Lake. So when she asked if I was making dinner, I was already out of the bathtub, so I made us the usual pasta dinner I made, using the campanelle pasta. I was just finishing up when Gretchen got home. But when she tasted the tempeh in the pan where I'd fried it up with onions and mushrooms, she was horrified to discover that it had somehow gone bad. We'd bought a huge chunk of it the last time we'd gone to Trader Joe's three weeks ago, and evidently it hadn't faired well at refrigerator temperatures. When I'd cut it up, it had felt a bit slimy, but tempeh is already a product of fungal growth, so I hadn't thought much of it. But Gretchen was right, when I tasted a piece of it, the flavor was definitely wrong, and left its flavor in my mouth for an unfortunately long time even after rinsing out my mouth with water (Gretchen had cured her problem with lingering off-flavor by eating peanuts). We ended up picking the onions out and giving the tempeh and mushrooms to the dogs; fortunately none of us had added it to our pasta yet. Instead of that frying pan of fried-up chonkiness, we used bits of spiced tofu and a delicious faux feta cheese.
After Jeopardy!, Gretchen and I watched the first episode of the third season of Barry. Unfortunately, it had been so long since season two (which we'd somehow forgotten the first time we saw it and watched twice as if we have goldfish memory) that I'd forgotten a bunch of key plot points and important details of the show's narrative trajectory.

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