As last weekend, I reside in the home of a stranger residually in the home of another stranger and even further so in my own.  The complaints, adequately suppressed though they were, which I have with the queen village complex, I have equal praise for the current Olde City situation and I have quickly acclimated maybe it’s the spaniels with which I feel so accustomed but the rose and postmodern farm house appeal resonates too familiarly. Appropriately, I found my glasses before resigning to remote keyless entry and laptop encryption. Saturday’s we receive four news sources; Barron’s, inclusively. Eight am I’ve a lesson in, what I assumed to be a preternatural system of coffee and pissings, leashes and pesto omelets. I was napping by noon.  No, allow me.  Pleasure with this job comes in the experience of lifestyle. The animals are notably a bonus but actually it’s the perverse role play that I find so attractive. Admittedly, I have always been aroused most by barely legal porn. There is no correlation except that I am the embodiment of some housesitter rape fantasy but this is a gated community so in lieu of steam bath orgies we have mortgages and concept art. I imagine it’s stimulating…getting fucked by interest rates but maintaining your dignity with exposed heating ducts. Obviously I’ve strayed from my original purpose however just now realizing what better forum for enlightening you to the repressed discontentedness of yuppie culture masquerading as liberation from us at large and oh! Eye spy a pair of bookends representative of the second abstinent month when you discovered your husband’s affinity for the internet and his ignorance to clear private data now. They called me from San Francisco to remind me to put towels on the Oriental chairs. The dogs get on them.