Spent most of last night looking for my things in my own apartment. Which is to say, the few belongings – such as chargers, books, Kindles, that sort of things – that I happen to have in the apartment I’m renting in Stockholm. The apartment is being put up for sale, and the real estate agent had sent out a photographer. Said person had redecorated a bit, styled a bit, as they do, and moved quite a few things around. Dirtied up a bit too, but hey, whatever. Got to do your job, right?

What the photographer had neglected to do was put everything back in place. Not even making an effort to do so, just literally closing the door on his or her mess. Because it was a mess, and things were crammed into cabinets and drawers, with very little regard for other people’s property.

Now, I do hope the photos turn out great, giving my landlady a shot at selling the apartment. The market for that in Stockholm is harsh at the moment. However, the photographer, that person should get a stern talking-to, because this wasn’t professional whatsoever. If I stepped out on the street right now and threw a rock, I’d probably hit a photographer. In other words, there are ample of reasons to be professional. As there always is.