Home Alone

That's the Pacific out there

“One last thing” Mike says “Watch the coffee pot. If you don’t screw the lid on just right you have a mess.”

Great. I thought the coffee pot was at least one thing I couldn’t mess up.

Yesterday cousin Judy had walked me through the house procedures. I’d taken three pages of notes.

Refridgerator: watch the ice maker. Cubes clog up in the door and then fall out on the floor.

Sink: there is a special soap mixture underneath. It looks a little like dark urine. The sink is indestructable. It is lab quality.

TV: many controls. Many instructions. The remote has to be returned to its birthing dock each night.

Light switches: I count 19 from where I am sitting. No kidding.

Sets of 4

Car: My oh my. Cameras, tilting mirrors, talking navigation, automatic doors. It’s all there.

I’m beginning to get a headache. I think I’ll stay home and stare at the ocean.

Then they are gone. I have a list of numbers “just in case” and I’m thinking I feel like a teen being left at home alone for the first time.

That night I’m watching the TV. The fridge gurgles, the furnace runs, the sound system fan is on.  I get a case of the creeps. I finally get everything turned off, doors locked and turn into my Sleep Number bed with my heated mattress pad and curl up under the comforter.

I am HOME ALONE in California. Let’s see what tomorrow brings.