My girlfriend recently got into pet-sitting through Pawshake, a website that matches animal-loving sitters with animal-leaving holidaymakers. I was brought along for the ride. Eventually, I helped us realise that it might not be for us. We love the doggos, don’t get me wrong – and I even warmed to the geriatric cat we cared for – but it’s not worth the geographic displacement (i.e. how dare my 15 minute cycle become a 45 minute bus commute) and disruption to routine.
A Prying Eye
It’s also a fun mix of strange and fascinating to live inside the dwelling of a family I’ve never met: making assumptions about them, and comparing how they live to how I’d like my eventual long-term abode to be. I recognise it’s beyond nosy, but how was I not to notice the mum’s kiwifruit “appetite suppressant” powder (yikes) above the microwave. Or the numerous books and even children’s board game (?!) professing that god-wants-you-to-be-wealthy-and-here’s-how. Double yikes. Smells like prosperity gospel, a.k.a. the doctrine that keeps megachurches absolutely rolling in it, while preying on the most vulnerable.
I’m sorry everyone. Turning down the snoop factor from here on out. I’m sure they’re lovely people. I just don’t think we’d be friends, and that’s quite alright.
Sleep Disturbances
Meanwhile, insomnia makes an appearance again. This episode, it’s after barely pulling myself away from a stomach-twisting read (The Good Sister by Sally Hepworth) well past midnight. That, plus a frenzied day of geocaching, curry-making, conversating and hot water bottling with Eugeus (the build-a-bear I made in my teens after my cousin got me a voucher when I’d lamented never getting to make one as a kid)… my eyes hurt, my throat is sore, and I’m trying not to think about unit planning. Or anything else in that vicinity. It’s day three of the school holidays, Christ.
Funny how, in the morning, nothing is nearly as much of a big deal as it feels at 3am. It’s something I try to remind myself in the moment, and I’d like to think I’m getting better at it. Thankfully, my sleeplessness is relatively fleeting, and I can go weeks or sometimes months without significant upset. Personal growth! We love to see it.
Animal Therapy
Only a few days ago, while pet-sitting together, I was similarly stressed and worked up about sleep. Bed-sharing is different on a smaller mattress. It’s a furnace. I could feel every movement, tug of blanket, and side-switch. Umming and ahhing about moving rooms, I eventually opted for the other bedroom… where the dog sleeps. Historically, I’ve never shared a pet with a bed and have always assumed I’d absolutely hate it. Boy, was I wrong. That pup was therapeutic as heck. Reflecting on it, I could see myself being a dog mum softie who lets her pet roam the family furnishings at will…
But no fur. Please and thank you. The shedding drove me up the wall, even for those few days. Every surface smelled of dog, and a layer of fur latched onto all my clothes. Couch-sitting with blankets should not be an uncomfortable experience…?!
For now, I’m happy living relatively responsibility-free. Being a homemaker is no joke, and some houses are just too big – as nice as the space can be. In my present existence, I enjoy my independence too much. As much as I like animals, I don’t have any deep desire to have my own one any time soon. Furthermore… No dog = no fur. No fur = no lint-roller marathon that makes me want to pull my own hair out.
Until next time, e hoa mā!
~ A lovely mish-mash of thoughts, feelings and garble for your reading pleasure. Hurry back xo ~
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