Tag Archives: housesitting

Kittens love Liam Neeson

kittenneeson
I made the mistake of letting the kittens watch Taken last night. Kittens, it turns out, love Liam Neeson movies. They spent the duration of the movie alternately stalking the TV and napping on the airbed so I thought we’d at least dodged the nightly 2 hour KittenCrazyFest.

I was mistaken.

Just as I got into bed, they got the signal from the Mothership. A few minutes of attacking the bed. And each other). A frantic episode of racing around the house. A few minutes of attacking the sheets. And my feet. And each other.

Rinse. Repeat.

They were so cute I hauled myself out of bed, grabbed the camera and sent Husband a video of the fun he was missing.

Then I grabbed the water pistol and put an end to the game and we all went to sleep.

I love the attack and flip maneuver (seen at 1:55), which never stops being adorable.

Rule #1: if you find an evil book bound in human skin, don’t open it

An 8 day house-sitting getaway with ample time and quiet and opportunities for swamp-y adventures and research sounds great, doesn’t it?

(No, it doesn’t. It did before I had to get up at 5 a.m. to catch a plane. Right about now it sounds like the stupidist fucking idea I’ve ever had).

The house has air-conditioning and there are adorable kittens!

What could possibly go wrong?

I’ve been informed that the snowbirds have flown north, so it’s nice and peaceful. Which, now that I think about it, sounds like a euphemism for “desolate.” The power doesn’t go out that often anymore, though, so there’s that! The internet works sometimes, or so I’ve heard. There’s no landline, but if you wrap yourself in aluminum foil and stand in the bed of a (parked) pickup truck while there aren’t any clouds in the sky and you’re super-lucky you can apparently get a decent cell signal.

Oh, hell.

I’m either going to get loads of research done or I’m going to be starring in the sequel to Tucker and Dale vs Evil.

I have to cook for myself for most of the week. That alone has great potential for tragedy and/or comedy.

Luckily, I’m just up the road a-ways from Publix so I’m sure everything will work out fine. They have awesome fried chicken.

Plus, I hear you can get fantastic cell reception in the produce section.

and yet, people still ask

I’m the last person you want watching your home while you’re out of town. You’d think everyone would understand that by now. I’ve had to make some absurd phonecalls over the years.

“You had a roof when you left, right?”

“Does your yard flood every time it rains?”

“Didn’t you say you had two hamsters?”

“Did you have a dining room ceiling when you left yesterday? Uh-huh. And was it, um, on the floor?”

“Did your dog have a history of heart problems?”

“….lightning…..”

“Remember those stairs you had to the 2nd floor?”

“….tornado…..”

“When did you get a python?….What do you mean, you didn’t?”

“…lightning…..”

“I’ve never seen a cat do that before.”

“Yes, we put him in the freezer.”

“….hailstorm…”

“The manager says they’re scheduled to change the locks today and they won’t give me the key. No, I don’t think 3 cats can take care of themselves for a week.”

“….lightning….”

“Really? Your basement has never flooded before?”

“I’ll call you back as soon as I clean up the 3 gallons of icecream that melted out of the freezer and onto the floor after the landlord accidentally shut off the power.”

And my all-time favorite 911 call:

“911.”
“I’m housesitting and there are 2 men in the backyard with automatic weapons.”
“Address?”
“…(address)…”
“Yes, Ma’am. Please get on the floor and stay away from the windows.”
(SWAT team descends on house nextdoor).
“Nevermind.”

Yes, you get the idea.

Nevertheless, I agreed to help out a neighbor this week. It seemed simple, in that dangerous “what could go wrong?” sort of way. All I have to do is pick up the paper and then deposit said paper in the recycling bin, I don’t even need to step foot on the property since I’ve got pretty good aim.

Except this morning when I picked up the paper the front door was standing wide open. My first instinct was to leap into action (read: sit down on the sidewalk and cry).

Fortunately, I didn’t have to take such drastic measures since it turned out my neighbor’s mother had stopped by to pick some things up.

This is good, because I’m too hungover to cope with anything huge today.