Happy Holidays

What do you mean there's no santa???

Kafka City

Am sick and therefore extra whiny but just have to touch on the, for me, biggest issue regarding living in the City. Everything takes so bloody long. You cannot get from A to B in Sydney in under an hour. Regardless of where A and B are located. You could be attempting to pop down to the corner shop and it would still bloody well take an hour return.

Had this quick errand yesterday. Simply needed to pay in the bond for the house. Should be a few minutes, right. So looked up address. Looked up three or four organic shops nearby, as well as a Boost.
(Yes, I like Boost Juice)

Expected walk to take around 20 minutes one way. Off we went. Me, hubby, bub and bub's stuff (stroller, sling, nappy bag containing nappies; change of clothes; wetwipes; toys; water; changemat; towel; antibacterial handgel; tissues; teething rusk; dummy and... some other stuff).

Anyway. Walk is longer than we expected. And the entire time in direct sun.

Get to government office handling things like bond payments. Take a number to queue. Very Swedish I thought.
Half an hour later get called up. Explain errand. Hand over card. But! Turns out they do not accept card. They also do not accept cash. Have to walk to bank to get cashiers cheque. Bank 15 minute walk away. Hubby disappears into depts of bank building for 20 minutes before finally cheque has been produced.

Get back to government office. Wait half an hour. Several people look at cheque in bewilderment.

I stand up and yell "Don't tell me you do not accept cheques! Will I stand on my head and pull the cash out of my arse - will you accept that?"

No, didn't. But considered it.

Finally it's sorted.

By this point I am exhausted and feverish; we have missed bub's lunch and bub has passed out in the stroller. I am way beyond going to any organic shops meaning will not be able to cook fresh food for bub. Again. Feel like a terrible mother.

Then cannot find Boost. Because in the City, an address is just an indication of in which bizarre mall something is hidden. Out of energy. Get sprite and chocolate - and undo years of hard work not eating garbage.

Sick

Unbelievable. Have come down with a serious case of man flu. Why man flu? Because it's making me whiny and leading me to believe I am possibly the sickest person in the world.

Bub sick too. We were so worried. Took her to doctors after hearing her cough at night. Doctor looked at us as if we were insane first time parents dragging baby to doctors for case of mild cold. We were.

Yet, when I got the same cold - it's suddenly a million times bloody worse. See! A classic sign of man flu.

We're in beautiful Sydney. But have, as yet, not been able to enjoy.

South Durras, nsw

Sven

Plötsligt talar alla om Sven.

I relation till vädret. I Sverige. Jag frågade mig: Vem fan är denna Sven?
Är detta ett internt svenskt skämt? Har man kommit fram till att gud heter Sven? What??? Dog lite av nyfikenhet.

Sen visar det sig att en storm hette Sven. Va? Döper man oväder i Sverige? Så man kan säga att ja, det var Sven som välte altanbordet. Jaja håhåjaja.

Enligt utsago hette stormen Bodil när hen var i Danmark. HEN.

Överväldigad av svenskhet.

Känner nästan för att debattera pappaledighet och nyfeminism här I svärföräldrarnas vardagsrum I Batemans Bay, Down Under.

Men ingen nappar. De liksom ser ut att inte fatta vad jag talar om.

Sven? Bodil? Hen? Pappaledighet?

Have a cup of tea love. There you go.

Det blir lagom.

Gone Walkabout

So Blogger decided to lock me out. Suddenly password no good. Would not let me sign in via phone. Then laptop was malfunctioning. Laptop really is scheduled for retirement. Has been for years, even though I (the most technologically challenged person you are ever likely to come across) still sort of think it is new. Ish. A modest four years old.

Anyway. Decided to try again today. Was all like, have so much to write about! Would be great to have a blog! Oh! I doooo have a blog!

Have been very busy, ladies and gentlemen. In short summary we are no longer in Byron Bay. Decided to pack up life - cram it into the smallest room in the house (manland) and rent the rest out whilst we go walkabout.

Not something most people do when just had baby. But have always been bad at staying put. Stayed put for so long waiting for said baby. Now she is here, it's time to show her a little bit of the world. House will still be there when we want to come back. We hope.

Funny story there actually. Had somehow managed to push the door to manland shut and turned the key - squeezeed rest of worldly possessions (including baby stuff) into commodore and hit the road. All was well and good.

Got to Bellingen. All was well and good.

Then heard of massive hail storm which had passed through Byron hours after we left. Some damage to house. And garden. In a way happy didn't have to see it. Hubby has handyman lined up to sort out emergencies.

Honestly. Might be better to sell house and live permanently on houseboat in Brunswick (actual idea) or in winnebago (unlikely).

The Jungle

Got someone in to sort out the spider jungle (the front yard). Nick. And his underling, Nick. Today Nick brought a third dude to help, Nick.
The Nicks. Go figure.

Rubbish?

Look what I picked up from the side of the street! Am not ashamed. No, I'm proud. It's recycling.

Vegan Chocolate Mousse

Was all hoysewifey and stuff, thought one hour of sleep is no excuse not to bake, is important to keep up ones qualities and so on.

This... this!!!

1 avocado (large)
2 table spoon raw cacao powder
2 table spoon maple syrup
1 tea spoon rapadura sugar
Blend. Omg.

Wits End and Airport Fail

If you wish to familiarize yourself with the destination "wits end" I can inform you that it is located at the end of a 30 hour trip involving two long haul flights, with a baby in tow.

Specifically it's where you finally get home, shower, and hit the sack. Exhausted.

And bub decides sleeping is for suckers.

It's daytime, in her mind. Yet she's also confused, overstimulated and tired.

Bub has a cry, mom has a cry.

Finally, after three hours of this: bliss.  FIVE hours of sleep ladies and gentlemen. I have so much energy today. Cleaning and sweeping and making plans. Brain is admittedly a little mushy. But you know.

Brain was mush yesterday going through quarantine as well. No less than three people in uniform asked me if I had any food. Most importantly, did we take any food off the aircraft? No. No. No.

Come home and discover three little packets of peanuts inside handbag.

Woops. Is this what is known as a "fail"?

Worried Bub

Bub very worried last night. Achieved record of waking half an hour after falling asleep, then cried like there was no way she could cope with all the world's problems. Poor bub. Took three hours to sort out.

I changed the nappy. For fresh start. Put bub back in cot. Bub looks me straight in the eye and, I swear to god, smiles. Then poops.

I change the nappy. Bub goes back in cot, turns over on her belly, and poops.

I change the nappy.

We play "roll over" for another two hours then bub sleeps. For two hours.

I think all this is an important developmental stage. Bub is simply very intelligent.

Sleep Facts and Sweden

Sleep fact: three hours in a row is better than four spread out over the night. But one solid hour is better than a half hour.

Up throughout night with bub every 90 minutes. First wake at 8.30pm, that is to say - not even I was even in bed at that time. She's going for some kind of new record.

I know. Am harping on about sleep. It's true that parents speak of sleep like a starving person speaks of food.

Of course, keep hearing and reading about babies who sleep from 6 to 6 and such. Who nap for a total of 5 hours per day and still mommy gets concerned when they sleep less. 5 hours. You're fucking kidding me.

A friend had a baby at the same time as me. She seems to have a schedule allowing for bikram yoga and outings to cafes. Hmm. Jealous. Do not deny friend this. It's just that... are our babies actually from different planets?

I think I should be able to get back to yoga when bub is one year old. Hopefully. If all goes well.

We're still in Sweden. Have loved this time with family and friends. Bub travels quite well, am not concerned about jet lag. Doesn't sleep anyway etcetera.

Have one week to go. Going to be very sad to leave. But then... I get to spend some time in the Byron paradise so can't complain.

Evil poison?

So bub seemed to get over the jet lag ok, after initially being a bit sore about the fact that we woke her in middle of night-sleep, and it was daylight on top of everything else...
Then has been waking earlier every night. Last night 1am. Like. 1. Am.
In desperation I gave up coffee today. Haven't been having coffee back in oz, at all. But love swedish coffee. And was quite conservative. Maybe two cups a day. Or three.

Amazingly she is now sleeping.

Two hours.

Coffee is evil poison. 

Everything fun is evil poison...

Colour code

Morning 5 am. Third night feed. Firmly swaddle baby and put baby back in cot. Even though there is now the faintest hint of daylight outside and the cockaburras are laughing. My husband is asleep, still I whisper by way of explanation: "he needs to learn how to sleep until 6."

Then. Oh God. SHE. SHEEEEE needs to... you know.

And now I know why baby clothes irritatingly often are pink or blue. It's a code. A failsafe to inform overtired parents of baby's gender.

What's this thing now... oh yeah right. The baby. Pink pj's? Brill, yes yes, a girl. I knew that.

As a mother you begin to see your day as 24 blocks of 60 minutes each.

A few blocks later we are trying for a nap. It's been an hour and a half, four nappy changes (three of which were poos) and countless other tricks.

I should be packing. Tomorrow we go to Sweden!

Good Idea?

So I thought what is a nice thing to do with our 3 month old?

And I landed on;  longhaul flight to Sweden!

In a week we fly.

Yesterday bub decided she no longer wishes to sleep in the sling. Only the cot will do. And only after three nappy changes, 17 re-swaddles and 49 dummy insertions.

Oh dear.

3 months old!

Celebrated the big occasion by baking vegan cake. Baby celebrated by learning to grab a toy and by trying to sit up. So advanced.

Cot Training

Sleep in the cot. Please baby, please. Please. That is all.

Going well

My girl is two months old, and I have had only two panic-attacks.

Entirely better than expected.

Days are spent roaming the streets wearing a babybjorn - and of course - a baby. Baby does not like to sleep in the cot. Or the bed. Or the pram. Only the bjorn. Only. The. Bjorn. 

Winter in Byron

Fish Drama

I mentioned previously on this blog that we had found ourselves living in a house with its very own fishpond. Suddenly pet-count was up from 1 to 32. Like, approximately.

Ponds are a genuinely bad idea. To top it off previous owners had drawn electricity to pond using totally insane and utterly illegal methods. Our electrician could not believe his eyes. Bill to fix; hefty. We death-defyingly left electrical mess as was.

Then suddenly had light bulb moment. Placed ad on gumtree re free fish, available for pick up. For some inexplicable reason we had loads of interest.

Fish are gone.

Woop.

But.

Two remain.

In the "hospital pond". This is a second, much smaller, pond built by previous owners. No electricity.

Anyway. Two sick fish. Asked hubby to kill them. Asked many times. Nagged,  you could say. Until this morning. Argued. Shouted. Kill the damn fish. Dammit.

Hubby decided to call me on it. Why him? Why can't I kill them? He's a fricking vegan. Couldn't think of anything to say so before I knew what was happening, had said fine. Fine. I will kill them. But never ask me how I did it.

How the freaking hell am I going to kill two fish???

Baby Sleep

Walked along Main Beach with stroller yesterday. That is, walked on grass next to path, to encourage baby to sleep. She eventually did. Bless the mountain buggy.

Observed other mothers pushing strollers or otherwise entertaining babies. Apparently all babies need to be encouraged to sleep from time to time.

Strategies used included: reasoning (you ARE tired now), threatening (go to sleep or mommy will take you home), begging (pleeeeease sleep), and of course praying (for the love of god).

Since this is now a mommy-blogg, am going to go ahead and make a recommendation. I recommend prayer. That is your best option. Good luck!

Tea

There is a lovely little tea-house just outside Byron, Starseed Gardens. Run by hippies, catering to hippies. You know.

Went there today in celebration of hubby's birthday. Long gong are boozy all-nighters that end up in 6am taxi rides and hangovers from hell. Instead we have discussions about which tea is milder, so we do not get too wired. White tea, as it turns out. And was the cake vegan? No. Thus birthday boy ended up with dahl, not cake.

Baby quite enjoyed outing. Had two hour sleep upon returning home. Longest ever. Baby not a sleeper.

Trying for first time to settle baby in cot. Have always held her, but at 6 kilos it is getting more and more unfeasible. Baby not having a bar of it. Looking at me with large accusing eyes. Pick.Me.Up...

I'm wondering if the white tea has made baby feel wired?

Stuff That Happens To Me

This really happened. Swear it.

Went to Yamba and stayed at Angourie Rainforest Resort. Decided to have 30 minute hand massage. Sounded interesting whilst not being painful and / or intrusive like other types of massage. Anyway.

Walk in.
Spa Lady: "oh, you're pregnant.
Me (dying a little): "er no. But I just had a baby! "
SL: "not just fat then?"
Me (whimpy) "no."
SL: "how old is bub?"
Me: "6 weeks old."

She's not. She's older than that. But like I'm going to tell SL that! In fact was going to lie even more and say she was 2 weeks old, but might not have been believable.

This could only happen to me.

If I knew what the hell a "#" does I might have created a "#" entitled precisely "shit that could only happen to me."

Here's the thing. You NEVER say to a woman "are you pregnant?" EVEN IF she is in labour. You don't.

Freak Accident!

Hubby has been injured in a freak-gardening-accident. Somehow gigantic gardening scissors clipped his leg. Three times. It needed stitches. Six. This was very traumatic for everyone involved.

Hubby was then under strict doctors orders to not move from couch and not shower for 48 hours.

I carefully pointed out that I had been able to walk around AND shower 24 hours after having needle pushed into spine and a person extracted from my abdomen with a scalpel.

Alas. A man's pain can never be fully understood by a woman.

This is just a tounge-in-cheek account of something that was quite scary at the time. Hubby has been amazing at looking after me for entire pregnancy and recovery. I couldn't find better support anywhere. So he deserved a rest.

But. Just saying.

Naughty Crankypants goes on holiday

When bub was born we ended up in hospital for a week. Got transferred from big-busy-hospital to small-peaceful-hospital in countryside overlooking mountains etcetera, rather like holiday. It helped that I was almost alone in ward - and got lucky and scored the only private room for the first two nights! By "lucky" I mean had meltdown and cry declaring only way could possibly go on was if got private room with ensuite.

See, previous night at big hospital had spent rocking bub in loos as bub was easily the loudest baby in entire hospital. And cried all night. Also we were sharing a room.

At new hospital bub quickly established herself under the nickname "Naughty Crankypants."

But man. Everybody spends entire lives complaining about hospitals and the care offered. So this is to say thank you to hospitals, the nurses and doctors who first saved both our lives and then gave us a holiday. Thank you!

Catch Up

Catch up today with antenatal group.

Chose the totally logical meeting point of... a pub. Think hubby and I simply do not know how to organise catch ups anywhere else, due to lack of experience.

It was great to see everyone plus bubs - and listen to every birthing, baby and breastfeeding experience. No one's had an easy ride.

Sometimes early motherhood is a lonely existence. Both because, well, you're home alone most of the time with baby - but also because you feel so alone in the world wondering if anybody else has struggled like this, do other women cry when they breastfeed or just ME?

They do. It's not so lonely after all.

PS. Having a baby is still great. I love her and couldn't imagine life without. That doesn't mean it's all smooth sailing. The devil is in the details, as they say. But it's going better and better.

Octopus arms

In my new series "helpful hints for new moms" part one:

How many arms do you need to breastfeed in public?

1 - to hold baby.
2 - to hold breastfeeding equipment.
3 - to hold down baby's flailing escapee arms.
4 - to hold scarf or similar over self and baby for modesty.
5 - to hold coffecup.
6 - to hold phone.
7 - to keep waking up baby which keeps falling asleep like time is of no consequence and you do not care about exposing selves in public.
8 - to give middle finger to onlookers (optional).

Also, breastfeeding hurts. Many Byron women make it look easy and natural and this can make you feel a total failure as a mother for not turning into "Madonna with child" within five minutes. You're not alone.

Baby baby

It's all going well. It's almost been 6 weeks. The good news is I can, at 6 weeks (apparently some kind of magic number) resume important activities such as driving and... and doing yoga? Nah.
I plan to take up yoga again. Soon. Within a year, definitely.  You see, for a bout of Bikram you need a three hour block. Baby currently allows for an occasional 20 minute block. If hubby is around.
Also, taking a medication which lists "weight gain" as one of its side effects. And as you know I am lazy. Why bother with exercise if going to put on weight anyway?

Love my new life. Love it.

Hurrah!

I'm back!

Testing

Well?

Our Baby

Born May 1, 2013.

4.27 kg, 56 cm - I apparently know how to grow a big baby. The short version is: 21 hour labour, emergency c-section, a week in hospital and having boobs referred to as "milk making equipment."

But she is here now.

Being 41 Weeks Pregnant Comes With Unique Challenges

You thought you were feeling heavy at 36 weeks - well, hahaha! The wisdom of hindsight.

You were still relatively light back then, now - NOW - you are heavy. No more outings. No way. No more swims. No more interacting with public; which strangely believes itself to have acquired new and unprecedented rights to comment on your appearance.

Examples from today:

"You look like you are about to explode!" (Followed by hormonal crying on husbands shoulder)

"Oh My God!"

"You need to get on a trampoline." (Right - I can barely walk thank you very much)

"That baby hasn't even dropped yet, at least a week to go." (Last things you want to hear; and by the way - who made all of you bloody experts on pregnancy?)


Time to take yoga teachers advice and simply stay at home. Protect self and baby from ill considered comments, well meaning or not. I try, I try, I try to remember - did I used to treat pregnant women like cute dogs or similar that are more or less available for cuddles and smartass comments? I hope I didn't.

Being pregnant sure has been great, but now... we are ready for step 2. Birth. When? It's torture not knowing when it will start - will it ever start?

My mother is here from Sweden. And hubby's family from down south. After Byron Bay's worst summer ever (I am guessing, but it was pretty bad) I have been delighted to show them a beautiful, sunny, clear water Bay with swims everyday.

Thank you Byron. Without all that beauty I might have felt really down by now. As obviously the guest of honour at this party has failed to show... yet.

Week 36, Business End

I struggle with motivation. To write, to go for walks, to do anything around the house really. Partly because I'm rather lazy of course. But anything involving moving around really is hard. Do not wish to understate this.

Clearly I am thrilled, thrilled, thrilled to be having a baby. To be so lucky and so fortunate.

But my knees are literally buckling under the pressure. Finding myself watching Biggest Loser (nothing else was on, ok!!!) and instead of laughing heartlessly at the contestants feeling a great deal of... empathy? It's bloody hard to walk, let alone do proper exercise, with all this extra weight on one.

Apart from knees, having some aches and pains in joints and bones just in general. But if this is the only thing then I am still very fortunate.

We're almost there with all the baby-stuff! Have got all the essentials and only missing some bits and pieces - which will all come together I'm sure.

In the outside world, the Bluesfest is on. We had tickets. We sold tickets. For a long time I was hoping I would be able to go, but when I started to be unable to walk - and grew out of all my shoes and boots (around 20 weeks) I abandoned this hope. Hubby, however, got a job at the festival instead, so will be able to catch some music.

When we bought the tickets (April last year, early-bird special) I said, and I remember this like it was yesterday, "I can't think of any reason we would not be going!"

Well, there was one!

The Role of Babies

I finally got a new phone - my very first smartphone! So excited about it, and spend hours glued to it every day. Tried to update blog from phone and upload photos. That didn't work at all. Why??? No idea. Oh well. Rome wasn't built in a day.

Nursery area is almost set up! Just missing the mattress and sheets. And probably a million other things hubby and I are not aware of but that, no doubt, are essential.

Was thinking about all the things we buy for our babies and children these days. Was wondering what used to happen - what did our grandparents get for our parents..? I know mom used to play in the pig-pen... And more so, what did our great-grandparents get for our grandparents?? A teddy-bear nightlight, a changetable with a bamboo-underlay, an ergonomically correct baby-bath and some paraben-free baby-wipes? Yeah right. More like the dog's old blanket.

The role of babies in our lives have definitely changed. I guess they used to be an almost unavoidable necessity; something women might sigh about "oh no not again" sort of thing, but know it was best to have six or seven, because a couple might not make it. And so they just used to come along. Exist. Hang out in the background and make use of the available resources (dog's blanket, pig-pen and so on).

Unlike nowadays when they tend to be planned, longed for and arrive like precious gifts to be treated like princes and princesses; like the most beautiful thing that may ever happen to us.

Of course, that is how I think about Beanie. Already so longed for and loved - naturally I am going to buy you that expensive organic cotton cot-blanket, precious baby.

9 weeks

...to go. Am feeling a little mental.

Only 9 weeks!!! I'm not ready. Haven't got cot yet. Haven't ordered the mattress and sheets for the cot. What if baby comes? Can baby sleep in stroller for a few weeks? Oh my god how am I going to cope for another 9 weeks?

On physical side am still struggling with elephant-sized ankles and feet, alongside a charming condition called carpal tunnel syndrome. This makes your hands tingle and freeze up, and be generally too weak to open most things from the fridge. Atleast it matches up with the sciatica which causes similar symptoms in legs.

Strangely, I am no longer hungry all the time. Thankfully (hmm) this decrease in calories has not affected weight-gain.

I am really, honestly, not too bothered by any of this. Have kind of stepped back from it and taken on the role of the observer. Hmm, I think. Interesting! Look at that. How curious. Getting out of bed for the 5th time at night to go to the loo - process takes 10 minutes with the backache, leg-cramps and sore hands - fascinating.

Everyone says this is nature's way of teaching you how to exist on little to no sleep. I think nature has got that backwards - surely it would be better to sleep now and have more energy when baby comes - rather than not having slept for 7 months already..?

Also hubby seems to be spending his entire life in hardware stores or in garden chopping and pruning things whilst I am standing at safe distance pointing and shouting "that one, and that one - kill them ALL!"

Hubby is struggling to live up to my expectations of house and garden suddenly looking perfect, in spite of always having been total disasters before... Apparently this sort of behaviour is called nesting.

As if baby will care one way or another about our lattice...

6 kilo baby?

The very essence of Murphy's Law, I believe, is this:

Decide to put nail-polish on toe-nails, do not put newspaper underneath bottle for first time in entire life, because - after all - have never spilled any before.
Spill.
Try to save floor and get nail-polish all over hands.
Do not fetch newspaper, figure instead there is no way you will spill twice.
Spill again.
Then, after having spent 7 months avoiding chemicals as much as possible - end up with nail-polish and nail-polish remover all over your hands.

So I was doing some pedicure... realised it might be the last time for a while. Oh dear. Had hoped to arrive in hospital, in about 10 weeks time, with beautiful looking feet and newly shaved legs. Unfortunately, each added kilo is making this seem more and more like a far fetched dream... Am only 30 weeks and can barely reach my toes. Pregnancy really is beautiful and unique experience. But there are things they don't tell you about. If they did, there would be fewer babies in the world.

Think most women are not as big as I am, surely. Suspect 6-kilo-baby. That will be a fun day. Luckily I will come prepared with yoga poses, meditation techniques and chants. Oh yes. No epidural here. And no morphine either, though admit would be fun... might be bad for baby though.

Weather cooled down, thanks be to the Universe. But feet still resemble bricks more than feet and ankles have transformed into thighs, and thighs... actually, never mind.

Starting to get some stuff organised. Pictures to come. When done. Which, hopefully, will be in the next few weeks.

Exercise Ball

Got one of those exercise-balls, you know the ones. Not really for doing exercise, as such. More for... sitting on? Have heard / read lots about modern day lifestyle being responsible for babies ending up in breach, or facing the wrong way - making birth more difficult. Modern day lifestyle meaning sitting down on comfy lounges and sofas with feet up, mostly. Which is an easy thing to do when feet look and feel like bricks...

But anyway. From now on have got giant ball to sit on when watching TV, instead of lounge. Three months to go. Hurrah.

Time to start organising some things. Like, a buggy. Nappies. And a carseat. And something for baby to sleep on. Oh god. Hate shopping. Hope there is still plenty of time..?

Had a tour around the hospital yesterday. Admittedly have never seen any other hospital, but it didn't look very fresh to me. Also hospital super-busy. What if we get there and no rooms are available? Come back tomorrow? Feel free to have baby on floor in toilet?
I'm sure it will be fine. Fine, fine, fine.

Mother once more points out that I look like her work-colleague who is nine months pregnant with twins. It's the heat, you see.

Heatwave

Have not had loads of energy to update.
Australia is in the middle of a heatwave - and days have consisted mainly of finding ways to cool down. In particular hands and feet have been on fire. Totally uncharacteristic - my hands and feet are usually freezing regardless of outside temperatures.

Have also had a house full of guests - always nice, unfortunately house did not agree and stuff has been breaking down at unprecedented speeds. Think plumbing, for instance.

Interestingly, plumbing decided to cark it at around 4pm on a Friday afternoon. This is Byron Bay. Forget getting anything done at 4pm on a Friday. Haha. Plumbers all sitting merrily having schooners at the pub. No worries and all that.

So have had interesting weekend of showering using garden hose; when 35 degrees in shade - not showering is simply not an option.

House has so many issues sometimes feel like banging head against brick wall might be a constructive idea? But always calm down and realise there are also many reasons to LOVE house. It's a wonderful place, really. As long as one is not too fussed about minor renovation-projects and, well, working plumbing...