This is not my beautiful house!

I’ve been playing house this past week, as I was left in charge of a lovely home and it’s two resident canines, and let me tell you: it’s not all that’s it cracked up to be.

Don’t get me wrong, there are certain perks that come with home ownership: the ability to pussyfoot about naked with impunity, a lush backyard to frolic in and the ability to make an ungodly racket without fear of reproach, among them. But when the actual homeowners don’t believe in curtains or drapes, valuing something as pedestrian as sunshine over an ever fleeting privacy, the freshly planted carpet of sod is too fragile to be frolicked upon, (not to mention it’s too fucking hot to even think about it anyway) and the loudest noise coming from the house is a possibly retarded dog barking at you because he forgot who you were for a second, it becomes all too easy to lose sight of the plus side.

Of course, it wasn’t all doom and gloom. In fact, it gave me a much needed opportunity to reflect on my life. Plus, it’s important to remember I didn’t come away empty handed1.

Things I’ve learned from renting the American dream2:

1 Don’t worry, I got paid too. Sotomayor got to get paid. Y’all don’t know shit about this! I get this shit for just sitting around.

2 “American night terror” just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

3 Obviously, there’s at least one ghost.

4 How he knew you had already gotten to the other one first, I’ll never know.

5 I measured it once6.

6 And cut it twice. Or is it the other way around? I can never keep that straight7.

7 Funnily enough, much like my penis8.

8 Because it’s crooked9.

9 How did I get here?


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