New kid on the block!

Dear reader! You are hereby invited for a stroll around my hoods, my turf, to have a looksie on the Irish/Swedish suburban way of life and to take a small peek at "my" house.

Due to three different mafia organisations back in Sweden that is determined to cash in some favours I promised them at some point like way back, I am restricted to and even more so reluctant to give away too much information about my whereabouts. All photos presented on this site may therefore be (or not) mirrored in an opposite manner and street numbers and addresses has been tampered with via a super sophisticated and impenetrable high tech system called Photoshop, so like don´t bother, ok?!

Moving on... This little suburb of mine is called (in a fairytale language) Inse Chór: Island of Sheep.
I can assure you that it is not even close to being an island, nor are there any sheep here, but that is just the kind of lies Wikipedia is telling me to feed you guys with.

Anyway... what you will see next is a photo of my neighbours houses across the street, taken without their consent and without me giving a crap.

Notching much to tell really... a most common street view around here. Everything squeezed and pressed together in a most narrow minded way so that we all can have that feeling of never ever being alone and constantly having someone eyeballing your nickers no matter in what direction the wind blows. Neighbourliness is the name of the game and I do love the way everyone is saying hi to one another and stops for a sec to have a wee chat.

Even the gardens are squeezed and pressed together or just paved over mercilessly to house a car. Which leads us to our garden:

And that was the end of the garden tour!

But I do love it though. We don´t have to do anything other then to just stroll around sipping lemonade and reciting Sartre or Descartes all day long - this small and secret escape of ours kicks ass because we don´t have to lift a finger to keep it maintained... everything is done for us by our kick ass landlord Mick.

Which leads us to the house itself:

Inside this Irish fortress of oestrogen Swedish rules applies, so when entering, take off your shoes and leave them by the door, we are not savages after all!

Other than that we are like any other normal, all female family out there: the standard 26 bottles of shampoo and conditioner in the shower, synced menstrual cycles and clothes everywhere. 

We are a great team and we always help one another when faced with any dangers a householder might have to deal with.

Take Isabel for example, she kills all the spiders that are consistently trying to send me to an early grave while I am the slug slayer to the rescue for Emma. Us ladies stick together!

With this joined girl power there is noting we can´t handle, and we resolve any hazard mercilessly. For instance... our sitting room has turned into a battlefield these past couple of weeks. 

We have been invaded by ants - small ones and the flying ones! 

First they took over our fireplace and then our radiator. Man, did they miscalculate who they were messing with. It became a slaughter!

Armed with a Molotov cocktail of regular cleaning spray mixed with bleach and salt we hosed those bastards back to the larva stage. 

Now, going all Soviet on their asses is effective enough but you need to set an example... 

You need to leave the bodies behind... It actually works! The statement can´t be clearer and has efficiently sent

out a massive warning through out the community and the ants are so scared out of their wits that they are now hiding within the walls instead... Problem solved! I will defend my house at any cost... unless I find a spider in my room, then I am out of here!

Yeah, the suburban life is certainly grand!