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:
   every day where bad things don't happen
Tuesday, November 22 2022
At lunch today, I brought the big 19 inch Kobalt battery-powered chainsaw to the fallen skeletonized chestnut oak on the bluff southwest of where the Stick Trail crosses the Chamomile to buck more of it into stove-length pieces. But while in the area, I found a fairly big and fairly dry fallen white ash atop of the jumble of rocks in the Chamomile just west of the Stick Trail, and I was able to cut most of it into a large number of stove-length pieces, most of which will have to be split into at least four pieces each. It's probably a month or more of peak-burning woodstove fuel. It's great to have so much ready-to-burn wood so close to the house, though I understand much of it (in the case of all the available white ash) is the result of a recent extinction event (that is, the arrival of the emerald ash borer about twelve years ago). The wood I brought home in my backpack today was all chestnut oak from the fallen tree on the bluff, and much of it also needed to be split as well. Temperatures were warmer than they had been yesterday, and my salvaging left me sweaty. The sweat interacted with my clothing, including a long-sleaved pajama top that had been clean yesterday, in a way that smelled unusually bad. So, after work, I ended up taking another bath and doing a small load of laundry. It had been a fairly successful workday; I'd managed to fix the XSS vulnerabilities and even found a way for someone to QA these fixes. And then I'd had some success during group QA showcasing my fixes to the ArcGIS stuff I'd worked on earlier. I was feeling like I was getting to a good place with my job just before going into the long Thanksgiving weekend. Eventually I'd like to get to the point where I am the master of a number of things in my remote workplace so I don't feel like every day might be my last (which is how I've felt for most of the fifty months I've had this job). My attitude is always to expect the worst, not to hope for too much better than that, and to take every day where bad things don't happen as a bit of an unexpected triumph. To celebrate today's triumph, I ate a little cannabis, but it ended up being something of a microdose. It felt pleasant and relaxing, but only just barely.


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