Earlier this week, I was really excited about my babysitting and dog sitting jobs. I’ve only been in DC for two weeks, and I nailed down three jobs. Something to be proud of right??? I felt like I was on the way to starting my sitting business—like an entrepreneur! For a brief second, just like not even a full thought, I considered being a sitter for the rest of my life instead of pursuing other avenues of work that would fit my education more closely. Sort of like my childhood business “You buy, we wrap” – “You birth, I watch.” Anyways, that thought dissolved into thin air when I remembered I have parents who would kill me if I did that.
Fortunately, babysitting went really well. The little girl, Davis (Modge told me that is a male dog name), was happy and cute like my niece Coco. She gave me a big hug after her bath, and all was gravy. However, after putting her to bed, I ran into a minor problem when I went to pee in their bathroom. I discovered that someone, probably not the 1-year-old Davis and DEFINITELY not me, clogged the toilet.
It was really bad, like an explosion bad. So, I grabbed the plunger and went to work—maybe my true calling?? The toilet flushed and I thought I was in the clear. Not so much. Whoever had the digestive issues, let them sit and harden all over the bowl. You all know what kind of experience I’m talking about.
I obviously went on an absolute hunt for a toilet brush because I did not want these people to think I took an epic dump in their pot. And with my luck, there was no toilet brush under any sink, in any closet, or next to any toilet. Cool.
I’m not sure what any of you would do if you came home to see a bunch of skid marks in the toilet after your babysitter sat there all night, but I know I would immediately assume the sitter dropped the bomb. Clearly, I did not want that to happen. I put some TP in the bowl, put the plunger on top of it, and scrubbed it around until the problem was solved. The night ended well with a payment of $70, quite generous for 4 hours of babysitting if I do say so myself! I’m starting to reconsider my babysitter biZnAs$.
Unfortunately, the dog sitting has not been as successful as the babysitting. These hippos each weigh over 100lbs, and are hyperactive with separation anxiety, so please just imagine how my last 4 days have gone.
I tried to take the dogs to my apartment on Saturday morning because I was supposed to watch them at my house. Well, someone, not naming any names, wasn’t honest about their dogs’ behavior issues….
Brady barks at me almost all the time, mostly in excitement and sometimes because I think he is scared, although I’m not really ever sure what his deal is. It is ear piercing, and endless. And Elway cries like he is being tortured and killed when I leave him alone. I’m not kidding, I could hear him crying from across the street a block away. My right ear definitely has permanent damage.
Brady ^, Elway v
Massive creature. Similar in size to a blue whale.
Now with this kind of bad behavior, I obviously couldn’t have these dogs in my apartment in the city with neighbors that I share walls with. In fact, I would be pissed if I was the occupants of the neighboring houses to these people, separated like a normal neighborhood, because these dogs are SO loud. It is seriously indescribable. All this makes me wonder, what the hell this lady was thinking leaving her beasts with me knowing they were supposed to come into the city??? #delusional
In conclusion, I am staying at this random persons house watching TV for 18hours of the day walking dogs because I can’t have them at my place. I’m afraid to leave the couch for several reasons: 1) The dogs stand up every single time I stand up and follow me to my destination, licking my pants and barking at me the whole way. It is like "Simon Says," but Simon doesn't say in this situation. 2) With all the rules that have been dictated to me, I feel that if I use one sheet of TP too many, the lady will make me pay for it. 3) I do not know them at all, their neighborhood at all, and anything about this house at all so I really don’t feel comfortable being upstairs where I can’t see the front door just in case I have to run like the house is on fire.
I have gotten plenty of passive aggressive emails telling me: Don’t use the car too much, but if you do refill the gas, but the car is there for you to use! Make yourself at home, the vacuum is in the closet next to the stairs if you feel like things are getting too hairy and please wash the dishes you use. Sorry there is no food for you! Sorry for causing you stress! We would have asked someone else to do it if we knew it would cause you so much stress!!! Sorry!
FYI: I WOULDN'T HAVE AGREED TO THIS IF I KNEW THE KIND OF STRESS THAT WOULD BE CAUSED LADY!!!!!
I constantly feel like they are watching me somehow and took inventory of everything in their house even though they didn’t know I was staying here before they left. The neighbors and friends are checking in on me. It just feels like Big Brother has the house on lock down.
Today, I did use the car to go to target and rolled the window all the way down (trying to save gas money by using natural air and not AC). She didn’t tell me when she was giving me all the rules that once the car window is down, the car window does not go up. Fan-freaking-tastic! I shook the window and yanked it up until I got the job down. I’m considering changing my name to MacGyver.
I’m just really over this dog-sitting job, and very excited to drive into the city tomorrow to wait for the cable man and to do laundry. I realize I probably wouldn’t be doing anything anyway if I were at my own apartment since waitressing doesn’t start until Wednesday, but this situation is too much. Sunday can’t come soon enough!
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