Where I live

I'm a follower, not a leader. I've tagged along in the footsteps of T-Shirt and am posting Google Map pictures of where I live and encourage you to share the piece of world where you live.

If you look at this lovely map, you'll see where my flat is in relation to my work, the closest Starbucks, and for personal reference, the closest registered sex offender. I'll hazard a guess in my immediate vicinity there are a few more sex offenders, just not yet caught. I'm sure the garden gnome look-a-like that spends half his day wandering around walking is not merely looking to compare himself to other gnome-like varieties, but looking for ways to spread his seed in his garden of delight.

And here is a little close up of my haven. I have fantastic access to the dumpster, but well, for some reason my building complex is home to certain family types that are habitats for individuals whom each have a vehicle. That's right, four adults, four cars, and they share a two-bedroom flat. (Ew. Gross.) I merely speculate on their occupation, but one family can't have it too bad as this obnoxious guy insists on taking a whole parking spot with his motorbike and I have the intense secret fascination of pushing the bloody thing over. Needless to say, if I make it home any time after 3pm in the afternoon I am relegated to a parking spot located somewhere near Canada or Dumpster City.

There's also a yippy dog, and said yippy dog is also an escape artist. Yippy dog is also known as Monte, and well, I hate Monte. I have Monte's mother's name in my phone now.

In addition to my flat I am also the joint owner in a piece of prime real estate.

Here is the lovely cookie-cutter neighbourhood. I shall refrain from telling you my ex-husband is from Texas and this whole estate has streets named after Texas towns.

Fantastically though, it was easy to give directions to people. "Drive until you can't drive anymore and you're about to hit a corn field. Turn left. Sixth house on the left. Or is that seventh?"

And here we are, in my favourite street in the world. When I lived in this house my best friend lived across the road with her pot-smoking boyfriend. We'd sit on our driveways drinking cheap wine and watch children ride up and down the road.
There was a couple that lived next to her that had a weird light emit from their house on a daily basis and we often wondered what it was, until one day we realised it was a tanning bed. When we finally saw into their house it was possibly the most ghetto house for white people I have ever seen. Black leather sectionals with brass lamp fixtures; leopard print rugs and prints of cheetahs and tigers on the wall. The scent of orange-scented kitchen cleaner was incredibly overpowering, and let's not forget the fact their whole second bedroom was dedicated to their in-home tanning bed.
So, welcome to where I live.