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The passive aggressive approach to life.

few years ago, Ikea split in two cents a magnetic alarm clock that doubled as a thermometer / timer / stopwatch when you did turn on all four sides. Nothing like
stronzatine of these gadgets to make me lose my mind. Love it. In addition you could not buy more because the second batch released by the Swedish company was faulty. One evening the
maritonzolo decides that he wants to know absolutely what the outside temperature and puts it on the windowsill. After a while, 'the alarm clock is gone. We will never know if it was the wind or committed suicide to escape the constant rotamenti. After appropriate
cazziatone go down in the yard to pick up the pieces. If nothing else I wanted to give her a proper burial. But, surprise, I can not find anything. Not a battery, not a piece of plastic.
And that's where I designed my first (and last, I hope) "passive aggressive notes." A nice package full of please and thank you that in a few words to the thief notice of carcasses to deliver the alarm clock in the reception the next day, but without indicating who the legitimate owner.
Yes, I know, gnegnegne. But as I said many times the title of the blog is not so much for show: I really have a temper. But thank goodness I also have an internal GPS that makes me go back on my feet with an efficiency enviable.
:-) It turns out that the poor had been collecting a few minutes before the boy who lived above us and that took 2.5 seconds to figure out who was the note. Returned it to me (almost intact) in the morning after making me understand that only I could be as fetish to think that someone could steal an alarm clock for 6 €. There. So I learn.

If you at least once in life I have resisted the temptation of post-corrosive, of the outburst against the injustices of the neighborhood, the more deserved insult to people as if they were parked in the middle of the Kalahari desert, take a trip up passiveaggressivenotes . Great source of inspiration. And care.

How Much Does It Cost To Ski.

closed for disinfection

I want to know why every time I go to Italy for more than 5 days I spout the flu. Why ????? (Now you ask Google ...) In
below the mills and autumn: we speak of torrential rain, strong wind and 15 ° C at best.

Sgrunt.

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The art of being happy

Reduce the usual holidays in Sardinia, I want to tell a story.
A true story, a story of happiness.
The protagonists are called Petrine and Wilma, is in his seventies and they are my neighbors in Sardinia.
He of Gallura Sardinia, her Dutch.
They met in the fifties and sixties: it nice and early twenties, her foreign nanny who did not speak a word of Italian, a language spoken today in its own way (with marcatissimo Dutch-German accent, mixed with Gallura). A
gestures began their love story: young married, in Sardinia in which the bride was still required a reasonable dowry, while the girl in question had only itself to offer.
Their marriage, which no one would have bet, lasts for fifty years, forty of which passed under the watchful eye of legendary his mother, Mrs. Magdalene, became famous for the age at which she died ( people swear that he had well over a hundred years). The lady lived in a house attached to them, and God only knows how they could be mothers-sardines than half a century ago, especially with foreign brides and viewed with suspicion.
anyone know them today would say that two people happy. Really happy.
Two old lovers with older children, grandchildren and countryside all around: a boar named Charlie in the yard, a dog, two cats, cows, goats, sheep, donkeys, dituttodipiù. And summer go together swimming in the most beautiful sea of \u200b\u200bSardinia and caring for their animals, living in contact with nature, eating roasted meat and laughing, and living wittily their love.
Perhaps this is happiness.