10/17/19
(Above: The kitchen counter has been cleared of all non-culinary items!)
Active Summary: This morning began with my cutting and gluing a piece of ¾” trim along the bathroom floating-floor’s edge. Afterward, I set about cleaning up the mess of wood dust and aluminum shavings that I’ve made over the past few days. The task of sweeping and vacuuming took about 40 minutes. This was followed by consolidating all the tools and unused materials that remained in Jacobhouse and placing them within a large box destined for Padre’s Studio.
The second portion of the morning consisted of my tending to the problem of Centurylink-Service. It took quite some time to arrange an appointment, but as I did so, I watched a portion of a documentary assigned in my American History class, delved into / organized / vacuumed the area beneath my bed, removed a refugee lizard that was attempting to utilize Jacobhouse as a winter holdfast, and began to wipe up various still-dusty surfaces with a mixture of water and vinegar. To finish off the morning, I took the consolidated tools over to the studio (with Padre’s help).
(7:42 PM Update): I performed much of my writing time at Jacobhouse this afternoon and then commenced to clear some of the collected building materials from earlier off the front deck. I also helped Padre a little bit of plumbing for the Studio container, and tended to a Centurylink chat*.
TIL: Today I recalled that I had an extra little tub of active sourdough starter in the fridge, and I wanted to do something interesting with it. Seeing as I just recently made pizza and bread, it could be neither of those. Then, a strange thought struck me. Could I make cookies with sourdough starter? I looked it up online, and sure enough, learned that it had been done with excellent results. I believe I know what tonight’s experiment shall entail.
Commentary: Presently, as I put together this post, I am sitting in the office of Jacobhouse. It is quiet. Blessedly quiet. The thoughts are allowed to flow freely as if from a crystal clear spring, rather than from a fetid mire, choked with distracting decay. Alright, maybe it isn’t that great of a difference, but I will say that there is a freedom here that I was unable to experience in an office with another individual. For the first time in quite a long while, it is as if my conscious mind is able to stand and stretch its limbs without interruption.
Almost everything has been put away. On the right, there remains a bucket of vinegar water (will use tomorrow for additional cleaning, most like), and a bed-rail that does not appear as if it will work for the intended application. 
Originally, I was going to attempt using 1/2″ trim here, but I tested 3/4″angle-stock before I did. This was fortunate, for the 3/4″ fit perfectly. 
Jacobhouse bed, ready for a proper mattress. The curtains are still a tad askew from when I was cleaning under there earlier in the day. (It should be noted that I did spend a minute or two completely under the bed, enjoying the sensation of a true hidey-hole.) 
As can be seen by the open window, the sun had gone down by the time I took a picture of Jacobhouse’s office. 
Via closing the drapes, the yawning void departed, and an aura of coziness arrived.
Final Note: Tomorrow is the day where I shall move my office, bed, and piano down to Jacobhouse. This means that on the eve of the morrow, I shall be laying down to rest at my own abode rather than at Old-house (looking forward to this quite a lot). As for the grill – the appliance on which I will eventually do much if not most of my cooking – I will wait to move it until I have added a railing to the front deck.
*Again. Apparently, a technician had arrived, knocked at the wrong house’s door, and left without calling or texting. It is events like this that causes feelings of resentment within me. It is not so much resentment at people; people are people and are liable to make many mistakes. I’m a people, after all, so I should know… But back to the feeling of resentment, it arises more out of my continued dependence on others. True, I’m not so dependent as I once was, but I feel that if I am to proceed farther down the road to absolute freedom, I must become even less so [dependent].