It’s important to note that housesitting can never be glamorous or comfortable. Just now I am sitting to reflect on the matter and the giant dogs, peaceably lying down seconds ago, are growling and barking. At 130 pounds a piece they each have more mass than I, not that that’s problematic, but it does amount to perfect arches of drool across my blazer at chest-level.
Stress dreams about house sits happen before, during, and after the time spent in another’s space. Emotional labor outweighs any extra cash (for the current job this point is especially dull, at $10 a day or less, depending on when the humans return). Of course I knew this was a compromise getting into it but I am un unstoppable force of hybridized snark and optimism.
I figured I could spend time alone attending to projects, which is what I am doing, but of course there is no such thing as solitude with 9 chickens (not 8), 2 dogs, and 2 cats. Of the cats, one is a “queen,” in heat (for the 2nd time this month), lashing out at my ankles and drawing blood. At one point I worried the queen (Raja) was sick when she wouldn’t eat, and visited the vet, pumping syringes of water to keep her hydrated, and receiving small cuts on my arm in return.
Using a dirty sponge (that I can’t afford to replace at the moment) I wipe the good intentions of nutritional yeast covered fingers from bulk containers. The energy of things as insignificant as condiments and super foods arranged thoughtlessly in a fridge stresses me out. As a lush aesetic, any lack of minimalism comes at personal compromise.
When kind humans come back to their significant-other-creatures I doubt they will have ever seen their house so shiny, and I will have stress dreams about all of it for indeterminate months.
“This one is Cuddly, we call her that because she is so cuddly… This one is Diana… she is a bitch.” Cuddly gets special treatment because she gets beat up by the other chickens,” the guy who I am house sitting for picks her up and kisses her.
“Alexa, play Enigma.” Alexa is a bluetooth speaker that plays from Amazon purchases, and Amazon prime. Later she is asked to play Enya and U2.
The 8 chickens, 2 cats, and 2 giant dogs all seem happy and well fed. The people are kind and end all correspondence with “blessings.” Juice pulp and carrots function as dog treats, along with hemp leafs, which ramp up their already high level of vibration.
Finding Om stickers on various housewares becomes a new game as I learn about cat-feeding. Raja is smelling my backpack, the woman I’m housesitting for touches her heart and says: “What an honor.” Later: “We don’t practice any religion… but we worship cats.”
I am informed of how the dogs used to play when they were in their former bodies, having been reincarnated to their current ones. A cup of nettle tea and a demonstration on “picking up the poops” within the Magic Circle, giving leftover eggs to ravens, and vegan dog kibble further round out my understanding of the ~temple sit~ I am embarking on for the next month.
Meow Wolf has an inside joke about shrimps and I don’t know where it came from or why it’s funny. So there was a “Shrimps Party” to celebrate a new work space and hard work – Mallplex painted arcade cabinets, black lights, DJs, snacks, chairs, a keg, plenty of people.
The same night SCUBA debuted a show at James Kelley Contemporary. Angelo and I were to play the after party: “Ex Cactus.” Everyone (Benji) planned on getting loaded and walking back and forth between parties.
The Shrimps Party was really fun and ended up winning, partially because the DJs for the other party were making out upstairs.
Noah says he will fund my first vegan restaurant, but under the condition that it is themed, and that it is called: “Spencer’s”:
– Really good food but with sad Midwestern diner styling.
– Buy everything new but pay to have black butt-grime faux finished onto red vinyl booths
– Half the lights are low-key purple for some reason and you feel like you’re going blind
– Vaguely vegan/clown themed decor
– Local artist commissioned sad clown with kale picture
– Really bad mural of cornucopia above kitchen – that is lazily clown themed somehow
– One poster kind of by the kitchen or maybe the bathrooms that says: “End Obama’s war on religion.”
Pretty much another version of “Our Haunted Fruit Stand.”