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:
   pre-Costa-Rica packing
Thursday, February 2 2023
Despite a recreational 150 mg dose of pseudeophedrine, I spent most of the day distracted from my paycheck-earning work as I prepared for Costa Rica, which we'd be leaving for tomorrow. I wanted to make sure I had everything I would need, including things like my good Nikon camera, the travel monitor (which I'd bought after experiences with a larger-though-lower-resolution travel monitor I'd taken four years ago, the last time we went to Costa Rica). I also wanted to have a full suite of the recreational (and semi-recreational) drugs I take (and can reliably carry into a country without being arrested). In case I wanted to do simple microcontroller projects, I brought a couple ESP-32 and EPS-8266 board, a Raspberry Pi Pico, hookup wires, and several micro USB cables.
At some point in the afternoon, I managed to focus enough on work in the remote workplace to formulate a question that was bedeviling my use of a complicated proprietary application (it turned out it had two utilities menus, only one of which had the utility I needed).
Towards the end of the afternoon, I removed all the firewood from atop and adjacent to the woodstove and then swept up all the woody debris that had accumulated since the cleaning ladies had come on Tuesday. This was so the woodstove would be modeling its proper operation when our housesitter Fern arrived to begin her housesitting gig.
Soon after Fern arrived, we walked with her down the Farm Road and back just to show her the basic hiking options. Our dogs attempted to tag along, but Ramona was feeling so sore that she eventually stopped following and lay down in the middle of the Farm Road to wait. Along the way, we told Fern about the unusually international flavor of our neighborhood, though we added that it also includes a right-wing vegan who things Anthony Fauci should be in jail for covid-related crimes. A polar-vortex-related airmass was in the process of arriving and it was getting very cold.
Back at the house, Gretchen served a faily simple meal of Asian noodles with Thai-style peanut sauce and marinaded tempeh.
At some point I showed Fern the document I'd made describing how to use the woodstove, apologizing in advance for how mansplainy it was. I then told her about the many screwups made by various housesitters (and Gretchen) that had led to the length and specificity of the document. Fern suggested that I probably enjoyed writing it, but I disagreed, saying that I'd written most of it "angry."
Gretchen and I then continued packing while Fern eventually went off to sleep in one of the guest rooms in the basement.

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