J'suis maudite moi...

I don't know why I agree to house sit for people.  It can be a nerve wracking experience.  I'm the queen of scaredy cats, especially at night.  I hate sleeping in my room at MY house because it's far away from all the other bedrooms in the house.  And when I'm in a house alone... oh my imagination runs wild. 

But that's not the worst part.  The worst part is that I'm actually cursed.  Bad things happen my first few days.  At Tammy and Jeffs it was the Tuesday from Hell.  Ohh that day was awful.  I babysat the nephew who wouldn't take a nap, no one wanted to stop playing the slip and slide, and someone locked the bathroom door shut which means Violet made a mess in her underwear.  Yeah.  That was a rough day.  That's also the day I got sick.  Yeah.  Tuesday was bad.

My first three days out here were okay.  Except that something went wrong every day.  Not huge things.  Just... minor panic attacks. 

Day One: Saturday.
Kit and I arrived a little later than planned.  I lassoed the little dog and coerced her into her pen with treaties.  Then we settled in for an evening of TV... but not just yet.  Kit hit the "reset" button instead of the power button on the remote.  So for a tense ten minutes we waited to see if she'd broken it or not, the problem resolved itself.  Hoorah for Israel.  Then I apparently sent some sleep texts-- much like drunk texts but no alcohool was involved.  I think at one point I texted Kit telling her to go to bed. Yes, I think I did that.

Day Two: Sunday
Left early for church.  Fed everyone.  Except Chewy.  I totally spaced that one.  By the time we got home he was spazzing out.  I made up for it.  But of course, that wasn't the main problem.  The big problem was that the MyFi that Dad let me borrow like DIED on me.  I was super stoked because we had no internet access until Dad told me he had a MyFi.  Score.  When we got home with it Kit called him and asked for directions.  They didn't work.  So Kit turns to me and says "I'm taking the battery out; don't tell Dad."

Great.  That's a sweet way to start my evening.

Well, Kit takes out the battery and the entire interrior is filled with this goopy stuff that smells like DEATH.  Hoenst, I nearly vomited when I smelled it.  Kit passed the thing over to me and said "Ugh.  Now what?"
"We're gunna clean it."
I took a damp cloth and wiped down the battery then got a bunch of q-tips and cleaned the inside as much as I could.  Gahh it was horrid.  The whole time I shot murderous threats at Kit, muttering "If we freaking broke Dad's freaking MyFi on the first freaking night, it's going to be YOUR neck on the line!"  She replied with a lot of "You saw the goop, I saw the goop.  I sure as heck SMELLED the goop.  We didn't put it there, so we're not blame."  To make matters worse, the thing wouldn't turn on after the cleaning.  I spazzed.  I literally disassembled that thing over twenty times.  Kit kept telling me to let it rest.  Like it was a loaf of bread or something.  Well, fine.  I let it rest all night.  Which leads me to ...

Day Three: Monday
I woke up and let the little dog out of her pen, fed all the animals, and did my scripture study.  I ran around the house a bit getting stuff done.  I actually got the MyFi to work, thank heavens.  Around 9:30, Kit emerged from the back room, and I decided to go see if I could find a working bicycle while she checked facebook.  When I got outside I was greeted by Candy and Sally.  Sally was normal throwing her toy at me.  Candy, however, had something in her mouth.

Or so I thought.

It took me about fifteen seconds to realize that there was NOTHING in her mouth.  Her face had just swollen to double its size.  Honest.  From her eyes down to the tip of her nose, she was a puffed up hot mess.  Normally an aussi mix, she looked like a pitbull.  I poked her a bit to see if she cried or anything.  Nope.  Didn't even bother her.  She was happy as a clam, breathing normally.  Just horribly ugly. I go inside and say,
"Hey, Kit.  you took a vet class, right?"
"........ Yeah......"
"Come look at Candy."
I was still inside when she first saw Candy.  How do I know she saw her?  I hear her say "Whoah."
"What do you think it is?  I think she either got into something she's allergic to or she got stung by a bee.  Seeing as she lives with beekeepers..."
"Dude.  I have no idea."
"Me neither."
"Maybe it'll go away."
"Great."

We stand there for a minute before the answer comes to me.
"Kit.  Text Sheehan."
Sheehan is Kit's FFA leader thingy as well as her vet class teacher.  Kit did as I asked, and told me that the odds of Sheehan replying on the first day of vacation were pretty slim.  Luckily, she did reply, and told us to give the dog 25 mg of Benadryl.  So we shoved a pill in some string cheese and candy gobbled it up.  By four o'clock that afternoon, Candy was looking normal again.  And yes, we found the bee sting.


Those were my first three days.  holy crap.  Yesterday went fine, if I remember correctly.  Today was okay, except I got a spooky phone call and now I'm super on edge.  But I'll be okay.  I've got the dogs and Dad's shotgun (that I'm very apt at using).  So.  I'll be fine.

I'm glad the firrst few days are over.

Tout est bien, tout est bien.

But man, I do feel curse.