I’m in the process of moving. I intend to make it the final move I make in Sweden before moving back to the US. It really is just a pain in the ass.
Suddenly, I have to clean places I forgot existed. Like the corner in the kitchen. Or the sides of the toilet. Or the balcony.
Now I didn’t forget the balcony existed. It’s hard to forget something like that. Since I’ve been in the US though, the balcony went unused for a few weeks. And actually, since I’ve been back it has also gone unused. Until today.
I decided I needed to sweep a bit and clean up. So out to the balcony I went when I was met with a bit of a surprise. An old herring. Sill.
Sill is kind of a Swedish tradition. One of those Swedish foods at which Americans might wrinkle their nose. It’s pickled fish. Usually eaten at Christmas, but also during Midsummer. The Swedes mix it with all kinds of things. My favorite is senapssill. Herring with mustard sauce. I like sill, but it isn’t something I eat on a regular basis. And it most definitely isn’t something I have eaten on the balcony. Especially since I’ve been gone.
In my disgust I kicked at the sill only to watch it fall through the cracks. That’s when I realized how it might have ended up on my balcony. Because rather than falling all the way to the sidewalk, it stopped. On the balcony below me. Oops.
Welcome to Sweden. Where sill falls from the sky.
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