The Substitute Sitter

(I originally posted this on The Tarot of Sneezing around 1998 if I remember correctly. If you Google the title, it's STILL the #1 entry! LOL )

"No, I understand… No you shouldn't go out if you're not feeling well… No don't worry, next week then… I'll call you later. Bye."

Kirsten hung up the phone. She could not believe it. After a pop quiz in pre-calc, which she bombed, she didn't make the volleyball team and on top of all that the only fun she was going to have this weekend, thanks to the term paper due on Tuesday and college essays that aren't going to write themselves, just canceled on her. Well, to be precise, he called in sick. So she reclined back on her bed, put her glasses on the nightstand and tried to relax for a few minutes and make her long day at school simply fade away. This state of forced bliss would not last long.

"Kirsten?" Her mother called.

"Yes?"

"Your sister promised the McCarthy's she'd watch Timmy for them tonight, but she won't be able to go. Are you free tonight?"

"I am now. John canceled."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you had plans."

"Like I said - I'm free now. Who are the McCarthy's anyway?"

"They live over on Avalon, I don't think you've met them. Sarah was sitting for them for the first time tonight but she had to cancel."

"Why?"

"Oh, uh... She has a date."

To add insult to injury, a perfectly miserable week was now going to end by here filling in for her sister, baby-sitting of all things, for someone she never met, while her kid sister goes out on a date!

"What time?"

"Seven."

Great. Well, as this was a perfectly bad day, she thought things can only get better.

Well, she was wrong. She ended up falling asleep, and didn't wake until 6:45. Her parents had gone out for the night, leaving a note saying not to oversleep.

"Well, that's handy." She thought.

So she grabbed her glasses and books and went to the garage to get her bike; not that it was easy task. She hadn't ridden it in the year and a half since she got her license so it was buried under a pile of junk. It was 6:50. Her parents had the car. She was late.

"Avalon...Avalon..." She pedaled down Kennedy Street looking for her destination. The wind was blowing, but it was warm and the late April weather had been delightful. That was a mixed blessing however, since she was allergic to at least three kinds of pollen that were in bloom this time of year, and though she normally got shots, her allergist had to leave town on a family emergency and rescheduled her appointment until next week. The over-the-counter stuff she had been taking in the meantime was barely half as effective, and in her rush she'd forgotten to take any at all. Her nose had been running all day and right now it was on fire.

"ah...Ahh...AHHH... ... ... ah."

There were three reasons she did not want to sneeze right now. (BEGIN sneezing might be a more accurate way of putting it.) First, she had no tissues. Second, she was riding a bike and carrying books, which gave her no free hands. And third, she had her glasses on and one of her allergy-season sneezes would get them all spotted up and since, as she already thought, she had neither a tissue nor free hands, she wouldn't be able to clean them.

The wind kept up and she had to really concentrate to keep from sneezing the entire fifteen minute ride over. She just wanted to get inside a nice air-conditioned house so she could apologize for being late without a gigantic sneezing fit taking control of her.

She finally got to the house. It was a split-level ranch with dark wood trim and gray stone walls. It had large windows in the front, and was landscaped beautifully. Of course the flower beds in front of the house seemed to be bothering her nose even more. She walked up to door, rang the bell and waited.

"Come on... ah... let me..ee..ah...ah...Ah...in... ... ah..ah-CHOOO ... AH-choo! Dammit!"

She always sneezed twice when she did, and her allergy attacks rarely stooped at two. And sure enough, she dropped her books, and got her glasses spotty.

"Oh damn... ah... ah...-CHOO! AH-choo! Come on open uh ... ahh ... AHCHOOO! AHCHOO! up!"

On the last sneeze, something on the ground caught her eye. It was a yellow Post-It note than had, at one point, been stuck to the door. She picked it up and fortunately her glasses were still clear enough for her to read it:

"Sarah,
Timmy will be home from Karate at eight. The key is in the planter on the right. Make yourself at home. We should be back by ten. Good Luck,
Amanda."

"Thank you Amanda ... ah ... Oh God ... ah ... Aah ... AH-choo ... AAH-choo ... Aah - Huh-choo ... huhchoo."

OK simple solution, she thought. Five steps: Find the key, get inside, find some tissues, blow nose, clean glasses. The key was not however in the planter on the right, or the one on the left. And she seemed to be bothered even more by the contents of both. And her nearly unbearable sneezing fit was not making the search any easier. The key was in fact under the welcome mat. She went inside.

The kitchen was big for a house this size, and she found a quarter-filled box of tissues on the shelf, by the phone. She blew her nose and cleaned of her glasses, but the tickle in her nose had not gone away. She could breathe again, but her nose and sinuses still felt like they were crawling with ants. That was not unusual though, the attack would get worse and then subside and she'd be able to breathe again without her allergies waging war on her. It didn't get worse however, and she didn't sneeze, but the tickle stayed. She thought she'd call John and see how he was holding up.

"Heddoh?"

"Still stuffy huh?"

"Yeah, feelig bedder, doh."

"You don't sound any better."

"You don sound so good yourself."

"No my allergies acted up on the way oh ... over... AH-choo...

"Bless you"

"AAH-choo... Excuse me! Must have taken in more pollen than I thought" She said as she went for another tissue.

"Well, I'm sorry again about canceling tonight. I thought next week we'd..."

But she didn't catch any of what he was about to say. "Wait ... ah-AHCOO! Hold on I ah... AH... AHSHOO! I can't hear yoo... ooh... ah... ACSHOO! Oh my god! Aaah-choo. What's going on?"

"You sound worse than usual. I thought you were getting shots."

"I waah ... waa ... WHAACHOO. was. Long story. ah... AH... Oh my god! I gotta go." She now knew what the source of this attack was, and it wasn't the pollen blowing around outside. It was the Siamese cat that just walked into the kitchen.

"Oh no!" she thought, as her sneezing escalated. Usually at a time like this she would talk to herself, saying whatever she was thinking. She often told people it made for more intelligent conversation that way. Right now thought she couldn't talk. She sneezed over and over, the whole time thinking, "Why didn't they mention they had a CAT!?" Then it dawned on her: Her kid sister Sarah was supposed to be here! Kirsten had never even MET the McCarthy's! And for a crowning example of how unfair life was, Kirsten was not allergic to ANYTHING! She was also so self-absorbed that she probably never thought to mention it to Mom.

"AaaShooo! Oh! I'm gonna ... ah ASCHOO! kill ... he ... ha ... ah... ACHOO! Kill her!"

So she went into the next room. And, pacing, tried to figure a way out of this one.

"Mom and Dad are ou... ou... ah... ASHOO! out.... Well I guess I can stick it out until eight and just explain that I can't staaa.... Aah-choo!"

The Siamese was gone, so she went back into the kitchen to get another tissue.

"Oh CRAP!" It was the last one. She ran into the nearest bathroom.

Her sneezing fit finally subsided. She blew her nose several times with some toilet paper. "Cheapskates," she thought. They didn't even use two-ply. She looked in the mirror. Her hair was a little tussled, no big deal, but her nose was red as punch and her eyes looked like rivers. She cleaned her self up as well as she could and got another idea.

"There must be some kind of medication around here..." She said to herself, having gotten her voice and breath back. She started to inventory the medicine cabinet.

"Q-Tips, Dental Floss, spare toothbrush, foot powder, K-Y ... yuck ... contact lens solution, a dixie-cup with make-up brushes in it, and a half-empty tube of tooth paste." Rolled neatly from the bottom, she noticed.

"Nothing. Damn. Well, maybe in the kitchen."

So she took to tearing through the cabinets, finding nothing but dishes. The one odds-and-ends cabinet she found took longer to inventory than the medicine chest. So much of her attention was in the cabinet that she didn't not the Siamese until it began rubbing it's head on her calf. It purred as she began to sneeze.

"Ah-CHOO! Go away ... ay ... ah ... ah-CHOOO!"

She gave it a little nudge and it took the hint. It was about 7:45 when the front doorbell rang. FINALLY. She could introduce herself, explain the situation and go HOME.

She opened the door and was more than a little disappointed. A little kid of maybe eight was waiting in a sweaty Karate Gi. A white LeBarons was pulling out of the driveway and pulling away. They just dropped him off. Damn.

"Are you Sarah?"

"No" She said, holding a finger to her already tickling nose. "I'm Kirsten."

"Oh. You look like Sarah, but you look different."

Thanks for that piquant observation she thought, the tickle building into that creepy-crawly feeling again. "I'm her sis ... ah... ster. She couldn't make it after aaa... ACHOO! ACHOO!"

"Bless you! Oh well, I guess that's OK."

"Great." She thought. "Just what I need right now. Approval to stay, from an eight-year-old."

All in all, Timmy didn't seem that bad. Cute kid. Sort of like that one from Jerry Maguire. What was his name? Lipnicke? But without the glasses. Hers were so spotty, and she could barely remember where she left them. Yeah, he seemed like a good kid. Very smart, but with a look of mischief in spite of his superb manners. Despite the occasional appearance of the Siamese, whose name she found out was "Mao," her sneezing subsided a little. Although her condition was far from GOOD.

"Do you have a cold?"

"No it's my all... all... ah... hang on... ahahah... ACHOO! ACHOO! My allergies."

"What are they?"

"I'm allergic to the ca... ahh... the ca... cahh... MAO! ah-choo... ah-CHOO... AH-CHOO... ah-CHOO."

"What does that mean?"

"It MEANS, that when I get near the ca... ca... cat. His fur and hair and stuff makes ... ah ... me ... ah.... sneeze... ah... ACHOO! ACHOO!" Talking about it made it impossible for her to keep her mind of it, and that made it worse.

"OOOOH! So when the cat is around, his fur makes you sneeze!"

"Yeah, very... very... ah... AAHH... ah. Very good."

"Oh. OK." He then got up and went into the kitchen. Kirsten laid back down on the couch, found her glasses, and started to read up for Monday's history class. Not only did she not get far, she also couldn't believe what happened next. Timmy had gone into the kitchen and gotten the cat. He brought it back into the living room snuck up behind her and dropped it right on her face. The result was explosive and he ran away, laughing.

"AAAAH-CHOOOO!! You little ... ah... ACHOO! ACHOO! BRAT!" She tried to get up but was paralyzed by a fit of uncontrollable sneezing. She had been trying to hold them back all night, and having a shedding Siamese thrown on her face was the anvil that broke the camel's back. And to make it worse the cat seems to be enjoying it! It purred to whole time it made her sneeze.

She chased him up the stairs, he laughed, she sneezed. She dragged him downstairs and sat him down at the table. "Don't do that! Now you're going to finish your homework and then go to bed! Understood?"

"Yeah." The boy mumbled.

Not that she was having a very productive time herself, but at least the cat had gone away for awhile and the terrible sneezing attacks subsided. She was reading a relatively interesting history chapter about Lewis and Clark, and had become completely engrossed in it. Timmy on the other had quickly lost interest in the multiplication problems he was doing and, unbeknownst to Kirsten, was getting bored very fast.

She was not paying attention however until she started to sneeze again. Figuring the cat was nearby she looked around and could not believe her watery eyes: Timmy had the cat up on the table and was rubbing it on the sides with his hands in a quick repeating upwards motion causing huge amounts of hair and dander to fly into the air. She went to say something and couldn't even start.

"AAH-schoo! AAH-schoo! Sto... Sto... aah... AHCHOO! Stop thah... ah… ACHOO! ACHOO! STOP THAT! ACHOO! AH-CHOO!."

Again he ran away, when she finally caught him, and stopped sneezing, her patience was used up.

"BED!"

With Timmy in bed, much earlier than most of the kids she USED to baby-sit, she went into the bathroom. In addition to actually having to go to the bathroom, it was the only room in the house that the cat apparently stayed out of. By now it was just past 9:30 and she was glad that they were almost back. She finished up and to her dismay used to last of the toilet paper. She looked under the sink, finding none. And she still needed to blow her nose. She went into the hall, the tickling feeling coming back almost at once, and opened the linen closet.

"Damn! None... ah... Aah... AAH... .... ah."

Back in the bathroom, it was now time to improvise. Her nose was really running now. She looked under the sink and felt out of luck, until she stumbled across a full box of Maxi Pads, thins no less.

"Of all the... That is should come to this!"

She got one out, and blew her nose. She disposed of the item and went downstairs. There was a message on the phone – they must have called while she was in the bathroom. What's more, that annoying tickle was back. She pressed play, it was Mrs. McCarthy

"Hi Sarah! Listen, we're running a little late so we won't be home until 11:00. See you then! Thanks!"

She was stunned. It was now 9:45 and she could've sat on a spike, holding a heavy suitcase on her lap for 15 minutes, but an hour and fifteen minutes? With no tissues, no toilet paper and a limited supply of other sundry items? Well at least that little brat was in bed.

By the time 11:30 rolled around the McCarthy's came home. They were surprised to see Kirsten and even more surprised by the state she was in. And they didn't even see the sleeves of her shirt, which had doubled as hankies for the last 45 minutes. They drove her home, and she got such a good tip that she didn't have the heart to tell them about Timmy, but she figured that Sarah could deal with him on her own next tim