The Crazy House of Sofiehem
This is something I was going to write about a while ago, but for one reason or another I seem to have gotten sidetracked.
My best mate here, Texan refugee by the name of Cory, recently moved into a new share-house, known locally as the Crazy House of Sofiehem.
The front yard.
The story goes thusly: there is a man, who owns more than one house. This man is a little bit crazy. But he does not live at the crazy house. He lives in a house with his wife, and in that house his wife exercises absolute control over all decorations inside and out. It is a normal house.
The crazy house he rents out to students, including Cory. But anything on the outside or in the yard is his personal artwork and/or plaything. He can often be seen in the evenings scurrying around the backyard hanging new purple plastic christmas trees or some such.
The back yard.
This means that the house is constantly evolving, there's something new every time I visit. For example, one recent addition is this lovely Tyrannosaurus Rex coming out of an oven:
A new addition.
Apparently the crazy man used to come inside the house, and even walked in on a girl in the shower once. It was politely suggested that he respect his tenants privacy and restrict his creative activities to the exterior, and he has since complied. Inside, the house is actually very nice. Hardwood floors, nice furniture, original artworks on the wall (one of the tenants is a family friend of a famous Swedish painter).
Inside.
The house is quite well-known around umeå. One disadvantage of living there is the constant stream of people walking past taking photos, staring in the window as you eat your breakfast. On a recent skiing trip to the alps, I sent Cory a postcard addressed to "the crazy house in Sofiehem with all the lights, Umeå, Sweden" and what I later learned was the wrong postcode. It made it there just fine.
Cory out the front.
A couple of weeks after moving in, Cory spoke to the crazy man for the first time. The crazy man proudly showed Cory a birthday cake he had bought for his grandfather with a big 90 spelled in out candles.
Cory: Wow, 90, that's great! How is he? Is he still getting around alright?
Crazy Man: No, he's dead. He's been dead for 13 years.
Cory: Uhhh.... ok... so is this birthday cake thing something you do every year to remember him by?
Crazy Man: No, this is the first year I've done it.
Thence followed a long awkward silence, which in turn was followed by a brief farewell and good day to you sir.
My best mate here, Texan refugee by the name of Cory, recently moved into a new share-house, known locally as the Crazy House of Sofiehem.
The front yard.The story goes thusly: there is a man, who owns more than one house. This man is a little bit crazy. But he does not live at the crazy house. He lives in a house with his wife, and in that house his wife exercises absolute control over all decorations inside and out. It is a normal house.
The crazy house he rents out to students, including Cory. But anything on the outside or in the yard is his personal artwork and/or plaything. He can often be seen in the evenings scurrying around the backyard hanging new purple plastic christmas trees or some such.
The back yard.This means that the house is constantly evolving, there's something new every time I visit. For example, one recent addition is this lovely Tyrannosaurus Rex coming out of an oven:
A new addition.Apparently the crazy man used to come inside the house, and even walked in on a girl in the shower once. It was politely suggested that he respect his tenants privacy and restrict his creative activities to the exterior, and he has since complied. Inside, the house is actually very nice. Hardwood floors, nice furniture, original artworks on the wall (one of the tenants is a family friend of a famous Swedish painter).
Inside.The house is quite well-known around umeå. One disadvantage of living there is the constant stream of people walking past taking photos, staring in the window as you eat your breakfast. On a recent skiing trip to the alps, I sent Cory a postcard addressed to "the crazy house in Sofiehem with all the lights, Umeå, Sweden" and what I later learned was the wrong postcode. It made it there just fine.
Cory out the front.A couple of weeks after moving in, Cory spoke to the crazy man for the first time. The crazy man proudly showed Cory a birthday cake he had bought for his grandfather with a big 90 spelled in out candles.
Cory: Wow, 90, that's great! How is he? Is he still getting around alright?
Crazy Man: No, he's dead. He's been dead for 13 years.
Cory: Uhhh.... ok... so is this birthday cake thing something you do every year to remember him by?
Crazy Man: No, this is the first year I've done it.
Thence followed a long awkward silence, which in turn was followed by a brief farewell and good day to you sir.
posted by I-Rock at 9:17 PM
5 Comments:
Oh man, I thought it was cool to live underground!*
* I didn't.
Wow. What's with his wife? Why would she want to miss out?
How did you hold this post in for so long?
I guess it had to stew a while before it was ready to germinate. Much like a good mixed metaphor.
Nobody seems to have met the wife. She seems to stay away. Perhaps she is one of those dessicated old women from which all the fun has evaporated.
That's a very good question!
I don't know, I'll find out!
Swedish people are weird. Weird in a fun way but weird none-the-less.
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