Instructions for the house sitter

Thank you for doing this. The key is under the pot with the dead fern. Please use that one. The living fern has become possessive.

The cat eats at six. If he tells you otherwise, remember that I have never owned a cat that could tell the time.

You may hear footsteps upstairs. It is an old house. Old houses have noises, and this one has put a great deal of practice into footsteps. Complimenting the acoustics only encourages it.

The blue room stays shut. This is less important at night than it is in the afternoon, when the light makes it look especially inviting. If you find yourself wondering whether I would really mind, go downstairs and make tea. That thought is not entirely yours.

There are clean towels in the linen cupboard. There is also a wet towel in the linen cupboard. I am sorry. We have discussed it at length and cannot agree on whose responsibility it is.

On Thursday, somebody may knock and ask whether the previous occupant still lives here. Say yes. It is a complicated question and yes has caused the fewest problems.

You are welcome to anything in the fridge except the small covered dish. There is nothing wrong with the food. The dish simply dislikes being returned empty.

Before bed, leave a lamp on in the hallway. Not for your sake. The dark frightens something here, and it is much larger when frightened.

I should be back on Sunday. If I arrive earlier, please call me before opening the door. I know this sounds inconvenient. The last sitter said the same thing.

The house still uses her voice when it wants the radio turned up.