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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appropriate tech
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Like my brownhouse:
   a ductile plastic that would not shatter
Tuesday, December 19 2023
This morning Ray and Nancy came over with their dog Jack and they went on a walk in the forest with Neville, Charlotte, and Gretchen. When they came back, I made a french press of coffee to share with Nancy while we commiserated about the unpleasantness of searching for a job. Poor Nancy (who is a graphic designer) put in a bunch of work on a demo project that was part of the hiring process. She even bought software so she could lay out mathematical formulæ and considered buying a font (all things, of course, I would've found ways to get for free). But then after all that bother, she didn't get the job. I've had things like this happen to me too, and at this point a job would have to be a pretty sure thing for me to do any work to get it.
I had to cut my socializing short to go attend a job interview of my own, which was to be happening via video feed from the laboratory. But then assholes who had invited me to set up the meeting never even showed up. I then looked at the job description for the first time and realized it was for technologies I knew nothing about.

Later this morning, I tried to convince Neville and Charlotte to come with me when I drove out to Home Depot to pick up an order I'd made via the internet. But Neville didn't want to go (evidently he was sore from the walk he'd gone on with Jack and Charlotte). With him not wanting to go, Charlotte didn't want to go either. So I went by myself.
After getting my thing (a gallon of rubbery roofing sealant) from a self-serve computerized locker system, I went back into the store to see if they had any mounting brackets for minisplit that will be arriving on Friday. But it turned out that all such brackets have to be ordered online. It's still probably cheaper to get them from Home Depot than any other way, since their logistics operations supplying stores makes shipping things there inexpensive.
I tried to return some bottles and cans at the Hannaford on 9W, and, though all the beers had been purchased at other Hannafords, the machine was programmed to only accept a few of my cans. I would be getting so little money back that I left the money in the machine for the next person who came along and put all unredeemable bottles and cans on top of trash can (which is what I usually do). I then went into the store and bought a gallon of Chabani-branded oat milke, two bags of tostadas, a bag of corn chips, two kinds of high-end salsa, and a bag of expensive potato chips (to redeem my bad potato chip experience on Friday).

This evening Gretchen drove (for the first time) up to the big maximum-security state prison in Coxsackie to teach a creative writing course to inmates there. Meanwhile I was doing things like to trying to fix a pair of Gretchen's progressive-lens glasses that Charlotte had taken from the living room coffee table and chewed on. She'd mangled one of the ear pieces, but the glasses could still fit on a human head (they'd been made largely of a ductile plastic that would not shatter). It took awhile for me to find one of the lenses, which she'd popped out. It was lying on the floor and completely invisible from above.

After she got home, Gretchen and I watched another gripping episode of the fifth season of Fargo. Gretchen is really liking this season and feels like the producers are going out of their way to make up for a lame fourth season.


For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?231219

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