HOUSESITTING

Am house-sitting for my sister while she is on a Caribbean Cruise, and am caretaking her retarded dog.

She left lots of food in the house, but it is comprised entirely of string cheese and Gogurt. I MUST go grocery shopping.

My sister successfully avoided the huge snowfall that fell just as she was boarding the flight to Florida. I did not avoid it, of course, and was dismayed to discover that my sister does not own a snow shovel. Or any shovel, for that matter. She DOES have a rake.

Rakes are ineffectual against 18 inches of accumulated snow, I discovered.

Fortunately, my sister must be servicing the entire neighborhood, sexually, because, in the morning, a half-dozen married men with snow-blowers arrived to clean the driveway and free me from snow prison. They were dismayed to find the only Rapunzel to be had was Me in my sweats and t-shirt, scratching my ass.

At least now I know why she doesn't own a snow shovel.

The dog ate something that looked like a woven rug, my second day here. I know this because I nearly stepped in it after the dog regurgitated it just outside the bedroom door. Must remember to leave lights on to avoid such pitfalls.

The dog is a nice companion and terriffic watchdog. She barks at plows, and squirrels, and falling snow, and the refrigerator. She needs to go outside three hundred and forty two times per day. Each trip out lasts nine seconds, at which point she remembers it's cold as shit outside.

The dog enjoys grabbing kibbles from her food dish and flinging them about. She chases, pounces, batters and shakes the kibble like it's a mouse. Then she leaves it for me to step on. Which I do. Always.

I was excited to stay here because my sister and her kids have every sort of gizmo, video game platform, cable channel, remote controlled vehicle, and Internet option available to Man. Unfortunately, my ten-year old nephew has disassembled every single electronic gadget in the house, to see how they work. Then he apparently took the most important parts and hid them, or dropped them down a storm-drain, or fed them to the dog, which does not seem unlikely to me after witnessing the regurgitated woven rug.

Anyway, at least I still have my iPhone.