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:
   not as bored as Diane the Cat
Tuesday, December 13 2022
It was sunny today but pretty cold (with temperatures in the upper 20s at noon). So when I went out on my lunch break firewood salvaging forray to the pieces of white ash near where the Stick Trail crossed the Chamomile, I decided not to carry an especially heavy load. Part of the problem was that there was at least an inch of snow on the ground, and it's not good to slip and fall when you're carrying a heavy backpack. So I only brought home four pieces. And the cold had me feeling so uncomfortable that I only split up one of them, leaving the rest to be dealt with some other time (which wouldn't be today).
Fortunately, though, my gut problems from yesterday were completely gone. After a fairly productive day in the remote workplace, I feeling content but strangely bored, unable to start anything new. Gretchen, who spent the day mostly in bed until going out for lupper with Falafel Cathy, noticed my aimlessness and even asked, "are you bored?" But I wasn't as bored as Diane the Cat, who kept following me around meowing at me only to suddenly bolt in front of me as if trying to trip me.


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