Neurotic

Does it seem excessive to feel compelled to impose a three-page limit for the kritter instructions for the house/pet sitter who will be left in charge as K and I take a weeklong sojourn for education and world exposure purposes?

The page limit was not so much a spoken restriction as something that I must have held in my subconscious as I was re-formatting the instructions for clarity, precision, comprehensiveness and readability. My internal editor was saying, “Oh, if you eliminate that carriage return, it won’t take up as much space.” I thought to myself, "Hmmm. . . I wonder what the margins are set at?" And then it dawned on me just exactly what I was doing – trying NOT to look as neurotic about the care and feeding of the krewe as I AM.

After we met with the house-sitter last week and walked her through the “routine,” I stood and held my breath, expecting she would run screaming from the trailer. She giggled and asked if we would mind if she used the washer and dryer, which of course we don’t. She could open a laundry business here at thetrailer for all we care, just so long as the krewe are well-attended.

Here is another random and unnecessary confession: until K moved into the trailer, I didn’t own a washer or a dryer. I would leave my dirty clothes in a basket on a chair inside the door, and a laundry fairy would come to the house, pick up the basket, and return it a few days later with clean, folded clothes inside. I know good and well I was old enough to do my own laundry. Then again, I was also probably old enough that I should have known Scooby Doo was a Great Dane.

The final page count: four.

Single spaced.

In my defense, the carriage returns were re-inserted, and margins were left at the standard one inch.