The dark visitor - murder at 155

I took a life the other day.

Man, I hate to confess my crimes, but my heroism protecting my property deserves it.

I killed a cockroach...



...but I so much wish it was a very large beetle. When you see a roach at home it means that you are no longer allowed to sleep well, when you see a beetle it means it got in from the garden below and that's the end of the story.

So there I am, happy, getting home on Friday after a bad day and a bad week at work. I turn around to turn the lights on and then, just as Doctor Who says, i see it back in the corner of my eye. A dark and ugly shadow, crossing the living room on its way to... please please please don't get in the bedroom or I'll never be able to sleep again... the bathroom.

Good, bathroom is safe, I have to clean it tomorrow anyway so bathroom is the least bad place were the monster could hide.

I followed it with my eyes, disgusted, terrified and... rebellious. How dare you get in to my sanctuary? all the living forms that enter here enter by invitation, you have not been invited in! oh how I hope you were a vampire roach, that way you would have stayed out waiting patiently for me to invite you in. Vampire roaches are totally acceptable, common ones are a curse.

Me being the tiny thingy on the ground and the roach the big white one.

If you ask me, it was as large as my fist. So, how should I get rid of it?

I need a murder weapon.

Why don't we have a 2nd amendment (for roaches only, please do not misunderstand me)??? hummm. All the stuff I keep at home is so pretty I cannot risk to squeeze the freaking gigantic bug with any of them. So sandals are sacrificed. I take one off. I feel empowered with my sandal in my hand, and then, then I realise I have to walk in the bathroom sandal in hand and one bare foot, and I chicken.

Deep breath, deep breath, and there I go, I walk in, look around and find the intruder under the door, moving its antennae. I want to think the bug felt its end was near... and hell it was. Hope it suffered for tresspassing private property.

First strike with the sandal, the bug escapes, I scream. I keep screaming. Strike two, bug lying helpless on its back, tiny legs moving. I scream again, close my eyes and... strike three. The bug is out. A huge mass of legs and white soft stuff all over the floor.

Yes, I am still screaming by then.

I got rid of the corpse as discreetly as I could manage given the huge amounts of organic juices oozing from the dead bug.

Dirty work done, I call mom.

I have not been able to look under my bed yet for fear of finding another uninvited guest.

Such is Life.

My dear dear friends...

... PLEASE DON'T DESTROY MY BRAND NEW PLACE (pretty please)

I have hopes that you will find it mighty uncomfortable and may choose not to stay long ;P but in the meantime, please follow these simple rules:

- Do not bring water or paint balloons.
- Do not step on dog poop before coming in.

I have decided to officially launch my new apartment and future home amongst my closest friends, and I am having second thoughts, cold feet and even bloody ears.

Not that I don't love my friends and trust they will behave as they should, but no one can guarantee any of them will turn up with an african elephant to the dinner or with the whole cirque du soleil who will use my bed as platform and my walls as canvas.

I may be going way too far with this, but one can never be too sure. I hope this dinner does not end in a ten worst things post, but if that is the case, you will all hear about it.

Enough of this!

My dear girls and boy, welcome to my humble and emptyish place, come in and make yourselves comfortable in the only sofa, sit cozily on the floor, squeeze the non-existent cushions and of course, feel at home.

Invitation details for those involved will come shortly via Facebook.

Such is Life

Postcards to Stockholm - Going svenska!

Dear Sis, now you've gone to Sweden I am doing everything in my power to get myself over there to see you. I am so desperate about it that I am determined to win IKEA's new competition. I think I am doing pretty well, I may start to call my pisito, the flatlet! I am so keen on winning this competition that I had to buy something to use my IKEA FAMILY card and earn more chances to win. So I got ASELE and TORSBY to keep EKTORP company in the vardagsrum.

I am going Swedish all over the flatlet. Cuteness :) 

  

Love,

M

Titan (The SiL archives vol. I)

Sometimes I write stuff that I never publish for various reasons, most of the time because the post is not good enough, but other times because I am damn lazy.

This story never saw the light in a timely manner because I did not bother to upload the pictures. More fool I.

But since it's being a quiet week at the office, and I have a bit of spare time at the end of every day, here it goes.

The SiL archives vol. I

"Let me tell about an epic war that has been fought behind the walls of my little castle, a story of defeat and sawdust. A story that will survive the passage of time and the rotting of wood.

Titan

I should have been informed that when you get your own place, everything that looks oh so perfect isn't really that perfect, and that you can't go directly to Ikea and buy all the furniture you like and have your home ready in a fortnight.

No, that is not true.

Lighting, painting, plumbing... by the time I looked at my to-do list, it already had 20 items, time and money consuming (specially the second).

And then... then came Titan.

Who is Titan?

This is Titan:

Titan is a mass of wood made up of two parts, one stuck to the floor and wall of my living room, 4 meters long and 70 centimeters wide. The second part is a smaller, screwed to the wall and also stuck, set of six wood boxes.

By stuck to the wall I mean stuck, the kind of stuck that means either destroying the wall or leaving wooden pieces on it trying to justify that it is some kind of avant-garde artist's work.

I think what made me hate it so much was the fact that I knew it was stuck to the wall, and that removing it would mean not only paying an interesting sum of money to either a carpenter, a lumberjack (chainsaw has been one of my favourite words this last month), or even the SWAT, it would mean starting a chain reaction similar to this: remove Titan --> fix walls --> fix floor.

I was determined to keep it at first, to use it until I could get back on my feet economically and buy a nicer piece of furniture, but every minute I spent in Titan's company I hated him more and more, until one day I couldn't bear it any longer and sent prudence and common sense off the window.

"I can't live here with that thing in the living room" I told my mom. No sooner had I said it that... three days later Titan looked like this:

And finally today, I went to see the results of the fight of man against wood, and the result was this:

Titan, may you rest in peace."


And this is how you pull two posts in a day ;P

Such is Life.

P.S.: After that, the wall was fixed and painted and the memory of Titan completely erased for good. Btw, I hereby present you my new place!

Second time's the charm (the secret is in the cup!)

I am not a quitter, I hate it when others do stuff that I haven't or can't. I just can't take it and have to try, and try until I do it.

It started some years ago when I lied about knowing how to dive and I spent a whole summer splashing my tummy on the painful water surface of the swimming pool, then followed by that time when I pushed myself to read the Silmarillion just beacuse a girl in my english class had read it (and I couldn't be less of a Tolkien fan than her) -then I may have created a monster but it all started that moment...- and now if I ever see her again I may be able to say "suck it you sissy, I can write in angerthas and tengwar and have the one ring, and read the Silmarillion thrice and made an awesome summary with pictures and all so everytime I want to read the Silmarillion I can do it in half an hour. Ha Ha Ha". Because of course anyone would (i) remember some girl you went to English class with for a month in Ireland and (ii) not run as fast as you can when a crazy lady screams some ununderstandable stuff at your face.

So when I produced my poop looking cake (like this one) some weeks ago, I just couldn't admit my defeat and declare myself a helpless cook, but had to try again.

Guess what, I tried again, and this time...

It was awesome:

The secret was choosing a smaller cup instead of the gigantic mug I chose for my previous attempt, and this time... delicious!!! The ice cream did help but the cake was actually a cake, and not brown sticky goo.

Success!! I can't wait to cook this in my brand new place, and serve it my brand new coffe service.

Isn't it cute?

If you were wondering... YES, the rest of the house is still empty, but I have the cuttest cupboard (check those washi taped jars :)) and can make the awesomest tea party on earth (although sitting on the floor).

Mr. Wonderful desreves all the credit for the cute advice on the left of my collage. Check their website, blog and online shop if you have a chance, cause it is wonderful.

And yes, I know I've been going a little too much "oh I love pretty stuff" lately, but such is life will be back to its normal self soon.

Promise.

Such is Life!

Till EURIBOR do us part.

"I will" he said, and my head started spinning.

"He said yes?" I had to ask to make sure I was not dreaming. I still couldn't believe my fortune, my future hapiness depended greatly on those words, and he had accepted my proposal!!!

Tears of joy filled my eyes, I started calling friends and family to make the anouncement.

"When?" was the most common question.

"In approximately a month" was my reply.

"So soon? You will have very little time to make all the arrangements. All the paperwork it requires... Are you sure you will be ready by then?"

I hope so... And then the spiral phonecalls, emails, documents, more documents, numbers and more numbers started.

It's been a very short engagement, only three weeks approximately, and now I am more than happy to anounce to all of you that next Wednesday 21st of March 2012 I am marrying...

MY BANK.

Happy mortgage to me.