It is strange coming back and typing words in a space where I used to be fairly regularly, but for the first time in 2 years. Jesus. So that whole "I'll be right back thing" was solid.
I have no idea if anyone is really checking in here, but recent events have kinda reminded me why this is such a good spot to document my crap. And kids.
Can't forget the kids.
But I'm not the best Parent Blogger, so my first post back in 23 months will explain why I was reminded of this place IN the first place. (and full disclosure, I still quote Barney Stinson's "This is totally going on my blog" even though that expression is pretty dated now and I have zero intention. Maybe my heart is all, "I want what I want.")
SO...
My friend Lauren from my very cool neighborhood* (*integral part to this story) had asked me to watch her cats, water her plants and take in the mail for the week she and her family was away. I know, it sounds like a lot. It was. The will to not rip open her Amazon Prime order nearly did me in.
Anyway.
The idea started innocently enough. I had gone into the house with my 12 year old niece for Day One. Naively thinking that the cat food would be laid out in an obvious place, I found myself going through the pantry looking for the cat food. (I don't have pets; I don't know how this whole separation of People vs Animal food thing goes.) I didn't even know where the pet bowls were, and there were no instructions left for me. Of course, my nosy niece wandered with me found the cat bowls and food in the basement and I was able to figure it out. This was not before I found, well, cookies. And GOD DAMN I was gonna pre-pay myself.
Being the prolific Facebook girl that I am, I posted the following:
Day 1:
House/cat sitting: unable to find cat food immediately but did score, I mean, find this BY ACCIDENT. Freaked my niece out as she thought I was eating cat treats. "Note the words "for people", Sar...they're chocolate cookies."

Again, innocent enough, but then the thought occurs to me: I have AN ENTIRE WEEK TO MESS WITH THIS FAMILY. IN THEIR OWN HOME. AND THEY CANNOT STOP ME.
Day 2:

Yes, I will nap in your house. For free.
Am giver.

I would later receive compliments on my skin from cars passing me by on our circle. Okay, maybe it was just the one car.
Day 4:


Never too late to start learnin'.
By now it's pretty clear they (and our friends and families) are very much into this "#catsittingchronicles" and I'm looking for ways to up my game, as indicated by this late-night text:

Attempt in-home workout. Why yoga, I cannot say. After a solid sweaty 3 mins, reward myself with some jacuze bubble bath time, as tub at home designed for fairy or elfin-sized people.



Day 6 was my last full day I had alone with the house, so it was definitely my GO BIG Moment. Received the following text from Lauren around 9 a.m.:

The idea: Message the peeps in the hood. Create a fake party, complete with Valet Parking. Call it "Operation: Sistine Chapel." All parking attendants are required to be barely in school, preference on a lack of height. I get my kids (ages 2 & 5) and my kid's best buds (ages 5 and 9) so be the attendants. I set up some wine and Oreos, a kiddie pool and a oversized raft as a couch, and have as many neighbors as I can get to park their rides in the driveway of Cat Sitting People. Head to the owners' deck. Take as many photos as possible and post to FB.
Then let it ride and see if I get unfriended/cops called on me.
Day 6:
Well, that escalated quickly. Wine and Oreos, multiplying in that cool-trick way Jesus did.




TOTALLY LEGAL. I had a key.
On their travel day back, and with the assistance of my colleague and eldest child, I was able to summon the spirit of Goldilocks (what my friend had been referring to me all this time):
Day 7:
Having been over-served her some Oreos, Care pulls an Irish Exit, sneaking off upstairs to sleep it off. Master Myles' bed proving too hard, the Mr. & Mrs bed too soft, but thankfully Miss Hannah Banana's was deemed "just right." sponsored (not really) in part by Nabisco (Oreo division) and the makers of generic Zyrtec.

The irony here is I'm WICKEDLY allergic to cats, and yet, it is as if I was born to do it.
Some might say, "jusssst right."
Comments