Tag Archives: house sitting

Just Checking In

24 Aug


I’m house sitting right now for one of my favorite people of all time. 

…We immediately clicked, and I think it’s cuz she reminds me of my family, in that she’s really loud, likes to carry conversations on into the bathroom with the door wide open while she pees rather than break her stride, laughs inappropriately  (in loudness and at specific times), is a giant art-nerd, swills booze like a sailor and views everything in the world from a slightly bent perspective of hilarious amazement. 

…God, I’m really homesick right now…


…She lives in a tiny apartment with her Husband (K.L — Army-strong and kickass), Great-Dane-Greyhound-Mastive-mix dog (Bruce — A 150 lb substitute for the horse she never got as a kid) and Cat (Kaliopi — which I can’t spell, so just call “the cat.”)

They are away right now getting married. For the second time.  And they didn’t even have the decency to get divorced in between, like Elizabeth Taylor has taught us. 

…The first time was at a Justice of the Peace, which The Moms immediately vetoed as not being legal…on account there was no white dress involved.  Then “M” had to tell them that she had already lost her virginity that one time…several years ago…and not even to her husband…and everyone went all up in arms about it (cuz they’re from the midwest), and insisted that they fly their happy asses back home and have a “proper wedding” if only so “M” wouldn’t look like a giant whore to the in-laws.

…So they did.

Bruce was boarded away at some stable where they keep all the other local horses, and I was nominated to watch the plants, house and cat.  Occasionally I check in with “M” and “K.L”, just because I feel its the right thing to do.  Also, if I didn’t they might start to worry that I burnt the place down on accident or something.  But I don’t know why…since I almost never start accidental fires in other people’s houses.  I’m extra careful about that. Now.

Following is the last note I sent them, yesterday afternoon:

“Dear The Mr. & Mrs.,

Just writing to assure that the place you live is still there, and your cat too. Incidentally, she asked me to relay you a quick message…hold on, I wrote it on a piece of paper here so I’d get it just right. Here it is.

Quote: “Whatthefuckyouguys?!?!”

…She also wanted to know when you might be coming home, so I told her. She suggested maybe you forget to pick up Bruce altogether and it’d go back to being the “good ol’ days again.” I told her this was highly unlikely…but then we discussed the new house and all, and she wondered if it had really high counters and good window perches. I told her I hadn’t seen it yet, so she’d have to wait until you all got back to find out. And then she gave me this look like, “Holy shit, you really are just totally useless aren’t you?” I felt really bad about that, so opened the big can of wet food and hoped she wouldn’t gorge too much and puke on the carpet.

…Also I cleaned out her poop. And she watched me to make sure I did it right. Like The Queen of Egypt breaking in a new unic. It is so much work being her, you guys…you just don’t know.

In other news: this last heat wave was exceedingly abusive to the flower-plants. I boozed ’em up real good every other day…but then I skipped one in the middle, so it was three days this one time, and when I got there they were all hanging from the baskets like melting death. So I panicked and came back-to-back days once, just to watch them. In Hospital-talk, they are now out of ICU, but are still being kept for observation.

Also, I think a bunch of people are trying to bribe you.

…Or maybe you have a Sugar Daddy who occasionally mails you gifts? Or maybe he’s “K.L’s” Sugar Daddy…I’m not judging you or anything, alternative lifestyles are awesome and everyone should have them.

Anyway…package notices keep popping up. Like 50 of them. I kept writing on the stickers to forward them to the office, and today out of curiosity, decided it was prob’ly time to go check and see if that was actually happening. But did you know, I’m not “you?” Apparently that is the only person aloud to ask about packages.

…I said I didn’t need to “see” them, just assure that they in fact “existed.” They said if you drew up papers at a local Law firm, put me in your wills, selected me as legal guardian of your unborn children in case of your untimely demise…and I got my immunization shots done…they’d tell me. But not until then. So, sorry. I guess you’re on your own. I tried. Except for the immunization part. I don’t do needles.


Your Official House Sitter and Cat Unic.”


The End Of An Era

15 Aug


“Mawwage.  Mawwage is bwings us together, today…”

…Or rather, actually, it is what separates us…spikes lawyer fees, divides up all your friends and worldly possessions, pushes you through custody battles, and has you living on a couch in the garage or someone else’s basement.

Everyone I know is getting divorced. 

…That is a gross overstatement, but it feels like the truth, and is really bumming me out. 

I am of the age where we are demographically told this is all perfectly normal. “Depressing as fuck,” but “normal.” According to what everyone is “supposed to do:” Young twenties is for marrying, mid-to-late is for the baby-making, and once you cross the threshold of your thirties, you suddenly want to repeal all your past decisions…like a Politician…and start looking for exit strategies. 

I get it. 

Marriage is hard. 

I certainly couldn’t do it, and would never be dumb enough to try.

…But a lot of the yous are fairly good at it, seems like. It “wears” well on you…like a tailored suit.  All your little foibles and personal idiosyncrasies, (that might seem totally nut-balls to someone else), are accepted equipment to this person you’ve shared your life and bed with.  They’ve seen you at your pukiest.  They’ve seen you at your sexiest. They’ve been there for births and deaths, know all your secrets, and fears and pains.  The fact you survive this for any extended amount of time, and still come to the conclusion that “alone” is better?…That’s grim.

When I hear, “it just isn’t working out,” with regards to people I care about, it kinda stabs me in my closet romantical parts. I am too ashamed to yell “ouch” about it, cuz then you’d all find me out and stuff.  Instead, I’m sitting here with a current count of five knife wounds, seeping heart-ink.   Because I like you and your families and kids and crazy parent stuffs.  I admire your courage.  I think you’re all totally insane as well, yes, but someone needs to keep “society” moving forward, and better you than me.

…Also, I miss weddings.

I miss the “idea” of weddings.

…I miss the party that comes afterward; the many toastings of free alcohol, the vintage music, bad dancing, and inevitable squabble between new in-laws.  I miss flirting over the food tables, staunchly refusing to join the gladiator fight over the bouquet, downing more glasses of champagne than I intended to, and freely partaking of bad-choice decisions in make-out partners.  (Because everyone looks good in a tux…even your goober brother.)

In my head, it all plays like that movie: “Four Weddings and a Funeral.” Minus Andie MacDowell. (Therefore, only the good parts.)

…So now, not only am I losing my perfectly good matchmakers, crutch-couples, and default Holiday-families…I’m also not being given compensation prizes in the form of “replacement” weddings…which kills the best chance I have to acquire a decent date (and some side-action), for God knows how long.

It’s only fair substitution, really.  If you take one out, the universe should be prepared and obligated to replace it.  Otherwise, who’s going to take pity on all of the forever single friends? 

Who will have us as awkward “thirds” at parties, and introduce us to hot in-law cousins? Who will have tiny people to call us “Aunty,” which we are freely encouraged to hold and snuggle and corrupt, then hand back at day’s end?  Who will invite us for giant home-cooked meals in which it is completely understood we are only responsible to bring a bottle of wine? Or to house sit, and have the kind of two-person income that can afford all the good movie channels, (and maybe a hot tub?)

…Now they’re all gonna be back out here! In the cold, empty world! With me! How is that gonna help?!

…They know more things! They’re more adaptable! And intuitive!  They’re more reasonable people, with deep senses of responsibility and the fierce need to protect their young and rebuild a safe environment for them to grow in.  Now they are “friends” turned vicious Mama and Papa bear on the world…so it’s nothing “personal” or anything, but if there is any “good” to be had or any “decency”…at allwhatsoever…they’re gonna pounce on that shit!  And they will go all Lady-prison-B-movie, ape-shit, in order to achieve it.

…Which leaves me where, exactly?

Now I have no Holidays, no parties, no set-ups, no weddings…and now, even the “free potentials” walking around are gonna be sucked up by “professional” relationship-makers.

I am just screwed.

…And prob’ly never again, in the good way.

Thanks a LOT, inevitable early-thirties and your wishy-washy political exit schemes!

Thanks a lot.


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