heather & nate sample the high life: the shangri-la series – part uno

Welcome to how the other half lives (and by “half,” I mean roughly 5% of the US, but 75% of California).  Now, this picture has a couple strikes against it: 1) It’s cloudy, which I no longer have any patience for because it has only taken me a month to become weather spoiled and 2) The waterfall chose not to waterfall when I wanted to take a picture of it.  Everything that has to do with the outside of this house runs itself.  The water decides when and with what level of force it will fall.  The lights decide when they will turn on and off.  A little robot vacuums the pool.  Even the plants seem to prune themselves.  Upon arrival this morning, I thought that maybe the inside of the house also had a self-cleaning function.  The trash had been taken out, our towels laundered, dishes put away, pillows fluffed, and there were significantly less dried dog pee spots on the floor (more on that later).  A quick check of the extensive, wall-sized, Pottery Barn, white-board monthly schedule in the kitchen, however, dashed my hopes of a self-cleaning house and confirmed the existence of a cleaning lady.  Trust me when I say, THIS is the life . . . the life you are leading that you think is THE life is, in fact, not.

Bah, I am getting ahead of myself.  I haven’t even explained the circumstances that would allow for me to come within 20 feet of a house like this without my ski mask and the cover of night.  What started out as house sitting for a family while they enjoy an Italian vacation somehow became house sitting plus dog sitting for a family while they enjoy an Italian vacation.  Allow me to introduce to you the little reasons why this job went from cake to ummmm, not cake.

Blog Name: Auglet Doglet (a.k.a. Turdlet Ferglet)

Modus Operandi: bogarting any and all food while crying and begging for more food, falling over and not being able to get up without assistance, once took a bold dump in the middle of the stairs.

Blog Name: Smella (a.k.a. Notorious P.E.E.)

Modus Operandi: incessant indoor peeing, peeing on her own tail, shaking said tail in order to golden shower those within a 5 foot radius, once fought nearly to the death over a stuffed toy meant to resemble a hot dog.

Oh, I know what you’re thinking . . . “Awwwww, look at those cute bundles of adorable dog-ness with their sweet faces and funny ears. How could they possibly be any trouble?  Unless you hate love and animals, Heather.  Do you hate love and animals??”  Freaking Suckers.  That is exactly how they lull you into thinking that they aren’t barking, fighting, chewing, shitting, pissing pieces of dog douche bags.  And for the record, I love love and animals.

When I am not pretending to be one of the Real Housewives of San Diego County, I am obsessing over this.

Nooooooo, that is not beer (come on, you people know me better than that) . . . it is amazingly delicious honey from the Carlsbad Farmers Market, and I have done nothing but try to figure out how to incorporate it into everything I eat.  Honey on oatmeal, good.  Honey on whole wheat pasta, bad.

shout out Max's Honey House.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Angie
    Oct 05, 2011 @ 17:46:25

    had to read this one aloud to the poor husband, both of us are still giggling! Thanks *sis*


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