Am feeling sad about leaving my house. I am excited to go to NY--my husband and I both will be better for it--I just love my house. Rough as it is--it's a massive fixer upper--we have put a lot of sweat and tears into it in the last 8 years. The first floor is finally almost complete, and now we are leaving. We are renting to a friend who I love like a brother but who is a dirty, dirty boy. Dirty dirty Iowa farm boy. My white bathroom will be gray when I get back. My floors will be scratched and stained. The house will smell like stinky man and cat piss.

He is taking care of our 4 cats for us while we are gone. He loves animals and will give them plenty of attention, but the cleaning part worries me. Will he wash the blankets in their sleeping baskets at least once a month? Will he change their litter boxes out every week and clean up after their hair balls and "accidents," or will they be allowed to dry like little sculptures on my hardwood floors? Will he brush them when they are shedding? Yikes. I need to just not think about it, because it will make me sick.

I have started preparing an instruction manual for him. I know that's really psycho and obsessive, but I just can't help myself. He doesn't know about it yet. He will roll his eyes at me. I don't care. It will probably be about 50 pages long. But dammit, he is getting a sweet rental deal, so the least he can do is not turn my home into a crack house.