I'm house-sitting next week. Watching for burglars, etc. Making sure it doesn't drop to 50 degrees in the near-100-year-old house of my pals, Erin and Dave.
Later in the week I'll take out the trash. I'll probably host a raging keg party. (I kid, I kid). But, you know, it's house-sitting. People do it all the time. And since Erin and Dave are spending the week honeymooning in Canada (Canada? Yes, Canada), I'm more than happy to take care of their humble abode while they bask in newlywed bliss.
But I knew we were living in a new century when Erin asked if I would, so kindly, blog-sit for her. As in, babysit her blog. As in, Erin pre-wrote six blogs before she left and would like me to log into her Blogger account each day and post each blog on their specific date.
Blogsitting. I should start a business.
I feel a little bit like I'm living in the future. I know, for example, that next Wednesday, her post is about Christmas cheer in October. And I know that next Friday, we'll learn she was married (and I will post pictures of the splendid event on both her blog and mine).
She left for me a detailed list of which blog to post, and when. What photos to post of her wedding, etc. She, of course, also gave me the username and password to her Blogger account. It's like 2006's version of taking care of someone's dog.
"Please feed at 5 p.m. Give water after dinner. Take out to pee each morning."
I hereby promise to be a good blogsitter, and I'll be sure This Is Life doesn't tear up the house while they're gone. And I'll totally send out a public invite when I host the kegger. BYOB.