Would You Kindly

Dear Fred,

Thanks so much for agreeing to housesit while we are in Cape Town for the Christmas holiday. We really appreciate your kind offer.

That you’re still in your sister’s debit is a measure of your capacity for emotional extortion and double-dealing manipulation. I objected vociferously to your presence in our home after the last fiasco, but your sister says that blood is thicker than water. She says that the responsibility will do you good.

Would you kindly note the following?

1. Please empty the post box daily.

2. Please close the curtains and switch on the outside lights at night to deter vagrants and thieves.

Or at least deter those that aren’t already house sitting for their relatives.

3. The windows on the west side -- Candice’s room and the study -- should be kept closed as the rain comes in from that direction. Please leave the kitchen, dining room, lounge, and main bedroom windows slightly open at all times.

While I concede that you feel that bathing is a ridiculous western convention, inappropriate for the African soul, a little through draft to rid the place of your body odour before our return would be nice. Alternately, you might take a daily shower. There is plenty of extra soap in the cupboard beneath the basin.

4. Please water the plants in the window boxes every three days. There are ashtrays in the kitchen cupboard beside the fridge for your convenience.

Spent condoms, like cigarette butts, should ideally go in the garbage, not the window box.

5. You may help yourself to the contents of the freezer

Was that the neighbour’s missing cat you left in the freezer last year?

and the liquor cabinet where you’re sure to find a good nightcap for your first evening here.

6. Please empty the kitchen garbage bin into the outside wheelie bin and push it out onto the street on Monday night. The garbage collection occurs very early on Tuesday. If you miss this week the garbage will only be collected in two weeks time because of the Christmas holiday.

I trust that this time I shall not have to deal with the rotting vestiges of your orgiastic indulgence. Did you honestly use 76 condoms in a two-week period? You alone?

7. Please do not undertake any home improvements in our absence.

You may have thought the pale lemon bathroom looked nicer after you had ragged the walls with lobster-coloured paint and other indistinct bodily fluids but we rather liked it the way it was. It took a lot of scraping and three coats of paint to restore it to its former state.

8. There is a list of emergency numbers on the kitchen wall beside the phone. Grammy across the road knows you’re coming. She’ll probably just pop her head in to invite you over for shortbread and a pot of tea!

I had a word in Inspector Kotzé’s ear about your pot of pot. Why couldn’t you book into the rehab centre this time of year, by the way? It would have been a whole lot more convenient all round.

9. There is an internet café on 4th Ave for your convenience.

I’m sure the management will be agreeable to your googling of ‘donkey sex’, ‘fisting’ and ‘dominatrix Pietermaritzburg'.

Regrettably my computer is being serviced while we are away.

10. The bed in the guest room has been made up for you. Please make yourself comfortable in that room. Our double bed is not for your use. Fresh linen is kept in the hall closet should you need a change of sheets at any stage.

There is rather a sweet green mamba that I have deposited in a pillowslip between your bedclothes. Once it has made your acquaintance, you have at most a few minutes to get medical attention. The panic button has, regrettably, stopped working. I will have to reinstall it on our return. I’m sure you will not be alone long, though, as Inspector Kotzé has assured me he will be keeping an eye on you.

I trust you will find your stay at 34 Louw Street very peaceful.

Warm regards,

Oliver.

© 2004 Liesl Jobson