FIRST DAYS

What follows is a bit out of sequence. But I'm moving forward with this section and will return to write on how I started housesitting later. Thanks for understanding. - SM


When I arrive at a new assignment, I begin with all the zeal of a safari journey. I unload the car, planning where everything is to go. I sometimes stage this unloading phase so the dog or dogs won’t be upset or out of sorts. I scope out where things are placed in the kitchen, bathrooms, etc., so if I use them, I can put them back right where I found them before I leave.

I soak in the ambiance, check out the landmarks from the windows, and make sure that I have what I need to settle in. I eventually begin to make the space my own, the bathroom slowly takes on the appearance of my own at home. The kitchen gets organized to my convenience and even the bedroom takes on the same slightly messy look I seem to carry with me, no matter where I am.

Whether I’ve been to this location before or not, I find the closest food stores and gas stations. I go out and buy some things. This is when the first inkling of depression descends. There is a small, first whiff of deception. I feel like I am an interloper, not of this area. I try and imagine myself as a member of this affluent community, just doing my shopping like everyone else. Naturally, I begin to see through the deception and view myself as a fake and a wanna-be. Of course, I tell myself, this is not true.

I tell myself that I am just another person shopping, using the stores like any one else. I’m entitled to be here. But I know that deep inside, I really want to pretend to be a resident of the extended community of rich people. I want to be seen and treated differently than when I go to my own neighborhood markets that are so much less attractive.

There is a strong feeling of not being ok. I feel I am so out of place, outside my boundaries. I know I’m pretending to be a part of something I’m not. It’s strong, but I fight it.

And that’s when I begin to feel the loneliness. It descends as a shadow. When I return to the house, it spreads to every corner, every minute of my time. I am alone. Even if the dog(or dogs) have bonded to me, I have the distinct feeling that my only real function is that of biscuit-giver,food-preparer, walk-maker.

This is not my house. This is not my neighborhood, not my life and yet it is. I am a displaced person in a place I have created. I can’t even complain about it because it was my choice, I knew what I was getting into. Upside, downside there is still the loneliness.