I’m at the age where I should have my own place, but I don’t. So people like to act like they’re doing me a favor by pimping me out to watch their dogs, water their plants, and take their mail in while they galavant on some beach. In exchange, I get to pretend like I have my own house for a week or so. I’m doing it right now. I’m writing this from a couch that doesn’t belong to me. But what are the rules?
Like the other 99% of the world, I really like dogs. What I don’t like is dogs that come with a lot of rules, or shit all over the place. The house I’m at right now comes with a dog that has anxiety issues. He’s Gen Z so it plays. If I need to leave the house, I have to load up his dish with food, CBD oil, and mix it all up with cooked bacon grease. I have to perform witchcraft just to get to my car. I didn’t do it one time. I went to a gas station literally 0.4 miles from where I’m staying. I needed cigarettes and a Gatorade, 7 minute mission tops. When I came back to the house, I smelled it immediately. The dog had literally busted down the owner’s bedroom door and shit all over their carpet. And not just like a steaming pile, no no no. It was a tornado of diarrhea. It looked like the dog was chasing its tail while it’s asshole was just a running faucet. I don’t do poop well. I ESPECIALLY don’t do poop well when I’m hungover. I tied a t-shirt around my face like a bandit and put deodorant on the cloth where my nose would be. Didn’t help, I threw up twice. Took me an hour and a half to clean up. I looked up the local dog hotel, $55 a night. If you know your dog needs 24/7 attention, do a place that can give it to them. Or atleast a place that can just hose down tile after their inevitable tantrum.
Dog hotels can add up, I get that. That’s why you called me. But if you’re know I’m saving you money, make it up elsewhere. A gallon of iced tea and a thirty wouldn’t have broken the bank. When I tell you I have nothing where I’m at, I mean it’s barren. “Ghandi ate more than this.” Not a single drink. Not an exaggeration, I think they took them all with them. I’ve been Doordashing drinks to myself whenever I’m thirsty because the last time I went to the gas station it left too many scars. Stack the fridge.
That’s my suggestions for the host, have a reasonable pet and fill the refrigerator. But us guests are not without fault.
Most people asking you to watch their house will tell you right away if you can have people over or not. If you’re in your late teens/early twenties, go crazy. It’s their fault for asking you. But at my age it’s too strange to throw a banger. There’s not enough years between the owner and I for me to take advantage of them. I’m a peer, I have to at least pretend like I’m a grown up.
With that being said, there’s an exception. Should you have sex in the house you were sworn to protect? Of course. IF I have my own place to go and IF I’ve pulled off convincing a girl to have sex with me, then the stars are too aligned for me not to pull the trigger. Fret not, I struggle with those two “ifs” more than any. But in the event that you come home and the sheets are changed, don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to. Besides, I doubt my four minutes of missionary and two minutes of doggy is going to leave it’s mark.
You should change the sheets anyway. If you’re a weirdo who sleeps in other peoples’ beds. I crash on the couch if I’m watching a house, I just can’t do it. Too weird. Point is, no one expects you to be a maid, but clean up after yourself. Air fryer, dishes, beds, towels, and hopefully food and drink are all at your disposal. If you use it, clean it up. It’s simple and it should go without saying, but it’ll go a long way.
Hosts, don’t ask for too much. Guests, just don’t be a pig. And neither of you ever ask the other one questions about what happened while they were gone. If either party goes too far, just take it on the chin, both of you know you desperately need this.
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