I have a good friend from Ireland.  One of the foundations of our friendship is that she’s a great traveler.  She’s traveled since she was a teenager, and is closer to having been everywhere than to having been nowhere.  On occasion, she and I have traveled together.  On one of those trips through the Mountain West, we arrived late in the day at our lodge in Yellowstone.  After checking in and getting our room keys, I said to her:  “I’m going to go to my room and unpack.  Once I’m done, I’ll come get you and we’ll go to dinner.”  To which she said:  “You unpack?”

Her tone when she said that was the tone you’d use if you said to someone:  “You eat human feces?”

There are two kinds of travelers.  Those who unpack at every stop, and those who never unpack — choosing instead to live each day out of a suitcase and a slowly growing pile of clothes on the floor next to the suitcase.  As an avid member of the former school, I never miss an opportunity to unpack.  For me, it’s a form of claiming the space — making the hotel room mine, my home for now.  My toiletries are in the bathroom.  My alarm clock and whatever I’m reading are by the bed.  My socks and underwear are in a drawer.  And the rest of my clothes are hanging in a closet where I can see them all.  In the morning, each will be begging me to choose them to accompany me on whatever travel adventure I have planned for that day.  My stuff gives me a sense that I’m in control of my surroundings, in control of my trip.

Kim and I have the same feelings about house sitting.  We unpack.  It allows us to make the home we’re in ours for a time.  We’re responsible for this home and the pets in it, and unpacking and moving in allows us to feel in control, allows us to distribute parts of ourselves throughout the house, allows us to make the house our territory.  We feel more comfortable and connected to the house that we’re guarding while the homeowners are away.

But unlike a hotel room which is empty when you move in and offers lots of space for your things, a house that you’re sitting in is lived in by the couple or family for whom you’re house sitting.  Their things are in the closets and bathrooms.  Unless the homeowners are thoughtful enough — and many of them are — they will neglect to create space for your clothes in their closets and drawers, and space for your toiletries in the bathrooms you’ll be using.  They make it difficult for the house sitter to move in, feel comfortable, feel in control, feel the part of the responsible house sitter that the homeowners want you to be.

But this goes beyond the bedroom and the bathroom.  It extends to the kitchen.  We’re going to buy and bring food into the house so that we can feed ourselves while we’re here.  We’ll need space for that food in the refrigerator, the freezer, and a cupboard or pantry.  This does not seem to occur to some homeowners.  While some will clear a shelf or two in their refrigerator, some space in the freezer, and a shelf or two in a cupboard or pantry, a surprising number of homeowners leave on their trip with their refrigerator, freezer, and pantry jammed.  There’s no room for our food anywhere.  While if the homeowner leaves you no closet space for your clothes, there is the option of living out of your suitcase.  But if the homeowner leaves you no space in the refrigerator and freezer for your food, what’s the alternative?  Canned food?

So on behalf of those of us who are house sitters, who are also unpackers and people who enjoy refrigerated and frozen food, I’m pleading with homeowners to recognize that we’re going to be living in your home, and need the space to do so.