Dear Housesitter

Why can't I just say, "The key is under the mat, help yourself to what's in the fridge, the dog food bin is next to the washing machine," like everybody else?

We were planning a long weekend for one last hurrah before summer ended, and it took me three days to write out instructions for the Best Ever house-sitter.

This is the key to the front door, this is the key to the back door, why we don't have them keyed alike we don't know, this is the key to the shed, and this key which looks exactly like the first three, we don't recall what it goes to but we can't take it off the key ring because someday we will suddenly need it and remember.

The house cats can go outside but the outside cats aren't allowed in the house.  But the house cats have to stay inside after dark, but they will try to sneak out if you open the door.  If they manage to escape, you can hunt all night and never find them but if they are not eaten by coyotes in the dark, they will materialize from nowhere on the porch at sunup to curse you for leaving them out there.

If loud tapping on the window wakes you up in the night, it's only the house cat and the garden cat fighting through the glass.

You can eat whatever you find in the fridge.  Speaking of the fridge, it makes an occasional knocking sound, no one knows why, don't be alarmed.  Could be a leprechaun.

No amount of turning the kitchen faucet will make it stop dripping until the new faucet is installed.  Meanwhile we apologize for the water torture.

The turkey will fly up to roost on the top rail at night, and he'll stay up there till he thirsts to death unless you poke him with this long stick to make him fly down every morning.

There is no surprise baby turkey like last time we left you in charge.  (Still sorry about that.)

The dog will chew all your things but only if you're not looking.

The goat gets her head stuck in the fence twice daily and you have to turn her head to her left while you tilt her horns to the back to release her.

The low-flow water-saver toilet has to be flushed twelve times before everything goes down.  We have yet to understand the water-saving feature.

All the stove burners are currently functional.  (A brizillion points to Hunneypunkin.)

Here is the TV remote.  Here is the DVD remote.  Here is the Blu-ray remote.  Here is the VCR remote.  Yup, still have one.  Here is the CD remote.  Here is the air conditioner remote.  It doesn't work with this air conditioner.  I don't know why we still have it.

Here is my collection of Jeremy Renner movies.

Here is my life savings, though for all this you deserve so much more than thirty-six dollars.

Pixie's Alter-Ego

Pixie, who has had the same phone number since the dawn of Pixie sharing a phone with her sister, has had her digits hijacked.  A mysterious Brittany seems to have given Pixie's number as her own at some point, and for over a year now we've learned a few random items about Brittany via text message.

Brittany recently qualified for a free year of Netflix.  (We can all hope she will reject pedophilia and decline the offer.)

Brittany hasn't signed for a package.

Brittany needs to sustain her celebrity status.  (What does that even mean?)

Ian says Brittany hasn't signed for a package.

Brittany's keto pills are ready.

She has at least $3000 waiting for her.

Tom says Brittany hasn't signed for a package.

Brittany's prescription is ready to pick up at the pharmacy.

Her Amazon order has shipped.

Brittany hasn't signed for a package.

She has a limited time offer for twenty percent off her next jewelry order.

She hasn't signed for a package.

A couple of more recent texts have been rather inappropriate.  Not to be judgy, but it might be best for Brittany to spend her time and attention on something better than Netflix. 

And, once again, Brittany hasn't signed for a package.

Brittany's text messages are daily routine now.  She's not nearly as interesting as Jeremy Renner.

I'm Moving Up in the World

My waking hours of late have been lived in the garden as God intended, now that it's spring.  There are seeds to sow, weeds to pull, flowers to plant, weeds to pull, grasses to mow, weeds to pull, and fences to mend.  Not to mention, everywhere I look there are weeds to pull.  Who has time for email?
So when Mother Nature went all Antifa this weekend I decided to hide out in the house and clean out my inbox till the fire and brimstone monsoon got tired of rioting and looting my yard.
After retrieving payment receipts and other items of importance from the junk folder, I perused the Olive Garden specials, Costco ads, State Farm correspondence (with Melanie, not Jake...she's not a guy, so...) then a message from Pat with some landscaping quotes for our homeowner's association and a few questions from Ellen for our next HOA meeting.
But I don't know Pat or Ellen and I'm not part of an HOA.
I ignored the HOA emails at first, but when Amit alerted the neighbors of a bear rummaging through David's and Vinny's trash, I became emotionally involved.  Are bears common in their area?  Will these people be safe?  If they buy mulch, will the local wildlife vandalize their investment?  Why hasn't Sarah or Brian responded?  Have they noticed my email address cc'd on these emails?  Do they suspect my unintentional eavesdropping?  Are they Jeremy Renner fans?  What will happen with the playground area?  Is the county or the HOA responsible for the berm?
At the risk of being removed from the thread and living out the rest of my days in unsatisfied curiosity, I introduced myself in a "reply all".  As it turns out, Ellen made me feel at home, Larry has already spoken with Fish & Wildlife about the bear in the area, Steve offered to let me chime in on landscaping, and I'm feeling pretty cool about being in an HOA.

The Precious Thinks He's Chris Pratt

Sometimes I can't find The Precious.  That's because he's in a corner somewhere with his phone, watching Chris Pratt.
Jurassic World, Parks and Rec, Guardians of the Galaxy, Magnificent Seven, Passengers, Onward, The Lego Movie, Zero Dark Thirty, Moneyball, @PrattPrattPratt on Instagram...Celebrity Mean Tweets...
The Precious walks into the room, tears his shirt off for no reason, throws it at my life-size Jeremy Renner cardboard cutout, and says, "When I get bummed out I take my shirt off because the bad feelings make me feel sweaty!"
Pixie thinks The Precious is annoying.  If you're familiar with Christ Pratt, it all makes sense.

Little Known Fact

I try to keep this on the down low because I wanna be tough and cool, but secretly, I like pretty things.  You can't really tell by looking, since I live a fairly practical life, but yes, deep down inside me where nobody even knows, I really really like pretty things.
Glitter
Purple
Flowers
Sparkly automotive paint
Hummingbirds
Polished wood
Blown glass
Gold
My behbehs (you know my children are beautiful)
Fluffy kitties
Shiny rocks
Waterfalls
Nail polish
Tulle
Jeremy Renner
Ironically I live in the dustiest hole in the universe, but I'm still always looking for pretty things.

Pixie Litigation

Mark Sinclair Vincent St. Agnes von Lichtenschtein follows Pixie around like he's a lonely puppy or a creepy stalker.  She goes into her bedroom and he scratches at her door to be let in.  She cooks herself breakfast and he stares at her from the kitchen floor.  She goes outside and he paces on the windowsills spying on her.  She folds her clean laundry and he takes instant naps on it.  She goes to bed and he curls up on her face.  She can't even shower alone.
"I like cats because they're not needy," Pixie's Sister From Another Mister says.
"Except mine," Pixie says.  "What is WRONG with him?"
Pixie was banned from leaving the house long before 'rona put us all under house arrest, because I'd had enough of her cat taking out his abandonment fury on my life-size Jeremy Renner cardboard cutout.
Today she sat down on the couch with her laptop, and within three seconds, the cat had materialized on the arm of the couch to peer into Pixie's soul.
Pixie rolled her eyes and groaned, "Do you think I could get a restraining order?"

Kyle and the Scorpion

There's a war on.
Pixie and Angel Doll look all ladylike and innocenty on the outside, but they've been locked in epic combat for two years now.  Kyle the rubber snake was a Christmas gift to Angel Doll from a Geronibro, one of her Nerdmigos.  The brown plastic scorpion has no name.  It also has no known origin.  It just exists.
Pixie and Angel Doll take every opportunity possible to hide Kyle and the scorpion in each other's belongings to the point that neither of them is even startled anymore.  They just keep doing it because, why quit?
It wasn't enough to simply leave the snake or the scorpion in each other's cars, sock drawers, socks, hairdos, pillowcases, bedsheets, clean laundry, dirty laundry, lunchboxes, sandwiches, birthday presents, or coffee.  (I may or may not have been involved in the washing of the scorpion with the dishes so he could safely lurk in the bottom of a mug.)  Angel Doll rigged the scorpion in Pixie's dresser to crawl up a piece of yarn when the drawer was opened.
Mama's so proud.
Currently, Kyle lives in a dorm with Angel Doll.  Don't tell anybody though because neither boys nor pets are allowed in the ladies' dormitory, and we don't want Angel Doll to get into trouble.  The scorpion's whereabouts are presently as unknown as its origin.  It could turn up in Jeremy Renner's possession for all we know.