#house-sitting

#house-sitting

I'd been on the island for less than a week when I opened my glove box looking for sunglasses, only to find the wrapper of my emergency granola bar torn open and the corner nibbled, right next to a neat little pile of mouse droppings. As I inspected the rest of the car, I was mortified to realize it was likely more than a single mouse. I texted the friend I was housesitting for in disbelief. "Ugh, I'm sorry! That's so island," she wrote back.

I soon found out they were either outrageously expensive, or they seemed only suitable for traditional families, or they were so cheap that I came home more knackered than when I'd left. My first attempt, camping with friends, was fine until I had to pack up the tent. Four hours of wrestling with it in the heat later, I hated camping. Next, the adventure holiday for single-parent families. The abseiling and caving were brilliant, but sleeping in a bunk bed ruined my back.

In a world where personal items are valued differently, lighting a 'luxury' candle can lead to unexpected conflict over what is considered respectful behavior in someone else’s space.