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wook77Here's my day... and it's proof that God or whomever you worship and/or believe in has a sense of humor...
Warning: Long rambling stories ahead. I like to think they're funny but they may not be funny to you all.
background information: I've started dogsitting for extra money cause I'm a dog person, I know what I'm doing with dogs and it pays fairly well. For example, I'm dogsitting today and last night and for 4 walks, I got paid 50 bucks. Not bad at all, as far as I'm concerned.
The day started out with my alarm clock going off at 7am. This in and of itself is fairly traumatic as today is my (now) one day a week that I have off of work. However, I'm dogsitting (my first dogsitting gig) and a dog's bladder waits for no wookiee. So, I wake up, put on the sneakers I never EVER wear and drive half an hour in to town to walk the dogs. I put the key in the bottom lock and YAYES, it works. I put the key in the deadbolt and OHNOES, it sticks.
So I put a little muscle into turning the key and the door unlocks. When I go to take the key out of the lock, it sticks again. I put a little muscle in to it and it doesn't budge. I put more muscle in to it and it budges.
Or so I think.
What actually happened was that the key started to break. I discovered this when I attempted to turn the key again. The top part of the key snaps off in my hand and I'm left staring, gobsmacked, at the broken key in my hand... you know, the ONLY SODDING KEY TO THEIR HOUSE that I have.
So, like any rational person, I do the first thing that comes to my mind, I call my mom. Hey, I may be an adult but my mum is the smartest person I know in the world. She says, call a locksmith, that's really all you can do.
I call the people that I'm dogsitting for and leave a long rambling message about how the key broke off in the lock and I'm calling a locksmith and I'm ever so sorry. I call the locksmith, explain that I'm dogsitting and would he please come by? He says, it'll be at least an hour.
So I walk the dogs, cause HELLO! they still haven't gone to the bathroom. While out, I have some nasty lady who says, get your dogs out of my yard! (they were in the street and sniffing a tumbleweed) I tell her that I didn't know streets were private property now but since it was her property, it would be very nice if she would fix the pothole that was right there because I almost twisted my ankle in it. She merely huffed and muttered something about "today's youth" before storming back in to her house. After giggling to myself at outwitting the nasty bint, I go back to the house.
Locksmith guy shows up and I casually drop that I work for the Humane Society. This results in me getting a discount and ALL their locks serviced (they have 4). So YAYES on that. The bill is 60 bucks.
Only problem? They only paid me 50 bucks to dogsit.
I'm the only person in the world that has had to PAY for the privelege of watching someone else's dogs...
The people finally call me back and I explain what's going on and about the charge. They happily volunteer that they will pay it AND me for housesitting so YAYES. I'm getting my money back.
The two dogs are the cutest things... one is a pit bull/ basset hound mix (best friend K calls it a basset bull) and the other is an Aussie mix. Very cute dogs.
Then, I get home tonight and I'm sitting in bed in my pjs (a tank top and my knickers) and I look down and I notice that my knickers are inside out. They've had to be that way since this morning. *fails at life*
Why I should never be allowed to housesit aka why did I ever think I could do this in the first place?
When I was in college, a favorite professor of mine invited me to housesit for him due to his 17 year old cat needing care. So, I said yes. I was to be paid 300 bucks for almost 2 weeks of housesitting.
He lived (could still live out there, I guess) out in the desert... as in, he has coyotes and quail and mourning doves in his yard at all times. I saw plenty of roadrunners and the like as well. His house was beautiful, 2 wings, 3 bedrooms, a huge kitchen, custom furniture, amazing architecture, etc.
He allows me to bring my dog, Cisco. At that time, Cisco was destructive and so I would crate him whenever I would leave him alone for any period of time.
First night goes well. The cat likes me, the cat likes Cisco, the cat eats, I go to sleep. The next morning, I set food out for the cat and go outside to enjoy the beauty of the desert while eating breakfast. I leave to go to campus and when I come back, the cat is gone.
As in GONE. As in... the REASON I'm there in the first place has DISAPPEARED. I panic and I'm calling "here, kitty,kitty" as I can't remember the sodding cat's name.
Days go by and the cat is stil gone. The cleaning lady comes by and leaves Cisco out of his crate and then doesn't put him back. (I'm sure you all can see where this one is going) Cisco proceeds to gnaw on their custom furniture, their kitchen cabinets and he eats their venetian blinds. Their 400 dollar venetian blinds.
I freak out and I'm all bad doggie but really, I was fucked from losing the cat anyway so what were some venetian blinds?
The night before my professor is to get back in to town, the cat reappears. I send a prayer up in thanks.
My profesor remarks on how the cat didn't eat very much while they were gone. I say... err, that's cause I fed him tons of dry food.
My professor remarks on how Cisco ate everything. I say, obviously you won't be paying me but just let me know how much I owe you. He says, no worries, cleaning lady is taking care of the rest of the money as she's to blame as well. *phew*
And that, my friends, is why I should never be allowed to housesit/dogsit/catsit. It's not that I'm irresponsible, I just have shitty luck.
Warning: Long rambling stories ahead. I like to think they're funny but they may not be funny to you all.
background information: I've started dogsitting for extra money cause I'm a dog person, I know what I'm doing with dogs and it pays fairly well. For example, I'm dogsitting today and last night and for 4 walks, I got paid 50 bucks. Not bad at all, as far as I'm concerned.
The day started out with my alarm clock going off at 7am. This in and of itself is fairly traumatic as today is my (now) one day a week that I have off of work. However, I'm dogsitting (my first dogsitting gig) and a dog's bladder waits for no wookiee. So, I wake up, put on the sneakers I never EVER wear and drive half an hour in to town to walk the dogs. I put the key in the bottom lock and YAYES, it works. I put the key in the deadbolt and OHNOES, it sticks.
So I put a little muscle into turning the key and the door unlocks. When I go to take the key out of the lock, it sticks again. I put a little muscle in to it and it doesn't budge. I put more muscle in to it and it budges.
Or so I think.
What actually happened was that the key started to break. I discovered this when I attempted to turn the key again. The top part of the key snaps off in my hand and I'm left staring, gobsmacked, at the broken key in my hand... you know, the ONLY SODDING KEY TO THEIR HOUSE that I have.
So, like any rational person, I do the first thing that comes to my mind, I call my mom. Hey, I may be an adult but my mum is the smartest person I know in the world. She says, call a locksmith, that's really all you can do.
I call the people that I'm dogsitting for and leave a long rambling message about how the key broke off in the lock and I'm calling a locksmith and I'm ever so sorry. I call the locksmith, explain that I'm dogsitting and would he please come by? He says, it'll be at least an hour.
So I walk the dogs, cause HELLO! they still haven't gone to the bathroom. While out, I have some nasty lady who says, get your dogs out of my yard! (they were in the street and sniffing a tumbleweed) I tell her that I didn't know streets were private property now but since it was her property, it would be very nice if she would fix the pothole that was right there because I almost twisted my ankle in it. She merely huffed and muttered something about "today's youth" before storming back in to her house. After giggling to myself at outwitting the nasty bint, I go back to the house.
Locksmith guy shows up and I casually drop that I work for the Humane Society. This results in me getting a discount and ALL their locks serviced (they have 4). So YAYES on that. The bill is 60 bucks.
Only problem? They only paid me 50 bucks to dogsit.
I'm the only person in the world that has had to PAY for the privelege of watching someone else's dogs...
The people finally call me back and I explain what's going on and about the charge. They happily volunteer that they will pay it AND me for housesitting so YAYES. I'm getting my money back.
The two dogs are the cutest things... one is a pit bull/ basset hound mix (best friend K calls it a basset bull) and the other is an Aussie mix. Very cute dogs.
Then, I get home tonight and I'm sitting in bed in my pjs (a tank top and my knickers) and I look down and I notice that my knickers are inside out. They've had to be that way since this morning. *fails at life*
Why I should never be allowed to housesit aka why did I ever think I could do this in the first place?
When I was in college, a favorite professor of mine invited me to housesit for him due to his 17 year old cat needing care. So, I said yes. I was to be paid 300 bucks for almost 2 weeks of housesitting.
He lived (could still live out there, I guess) out in the desert... as in, he has coyotes and quail and mourning doves in his yard at all times. I saw plenty of roadrunners and the like as well. His house was beautiful, 2 wings, 3 bedrooms, a huge kitchen, custom furniture, amazing architecture, etc.
He allows me to bring my dog, Cisco. At that time, Cisco was destructive and so I would crate him whenever I would leave him alone for any period of time.
First night goes well. The cat likes me, the cat likes Cisco, the cat eats, I go to sleep. The next morning, I set food out for the cat and go outside to enjoy the beauty of the desert while eating breakfast. I leave to go to campus and when I come back, the cat is gone.
As in GONE. As in... the REASON I'm there in the first place has DISAPPEARED. I panic and I'm calling "here, kitty,kitty" as I can't remember the sodding cat's name.
Days go by and the cat is stil gone. The cleaning lady comes by and leaves Cisco out of his crate and then doesn't put him back. (I'm sure you all can see where this one is going) Cisco proceeds to gnaw on their custom furniture, their kitchen cabinets and he eats their venetian blinds. Their 400 dollar venetian blinds.
I freak out and I'm all bad doggie but really, I was fucked from losing the cat anyway so what were some venetian blinds?
The night before my professor is to get back in to town, the cat reappears. I send a prayer up in thanks.
My profesor remarks on how the cat didn't eat very much while they were gone. I say... err, that's cause I fed him tons of dry food.
My professor remarks on how Cisco ate everything. I say, obviously you won't be paying me but just let me know how much I owe you. He says, no worries, cleaning lady is taking care of the rest of the money as she's to blame as well. *phew*
And that, my friends, is why I should never be allowed to housesit/dogsit/catsit. It's not that I'm irresponsible, I just have shitty luck.
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no subject
Date: 2006-06-11 07:10 am (UTC)But really, though. That could be looked at as the best luck ever. Expenses were paid for and owner's were happy and probably got a laugh out of the deal.
no subject
Date: 2006-06-11 03:02 pm (UTC)Then, I get home tonight and I'm sitting in bed in my pjs (a tank top and my knickers) and I look down and I notice that my knickers are inside out. They've had to be that way since this morning.
*snickers* My twisted since of humor and I find that incredibly amusing.