Dear reader,
It’s day four of house sitting at T’s parents’ house out of a total of eight weeks. I had an emotional breakdown a couple of days prior to coming, because I was so upset and stressed about having to leave my house for such a huge amount of time.
We’re often asked to house sit for relatives and friends of relatives, but eight weeks is the longest period we’ve ever had to do—by far.
Usually, when we're asked to house sit, it's framed as, "Because our house is so much nicer than yours, we're actually doing you a favour to let you stay here. It will be like a holiday for you!” I find it very frustrating because it minimises the fact we have to pack up our lives to do this, we’re not compensated for it, and meanwhile, our own house gets neglected. And no, it doesn’t feel like a holiday. I get homesick.
That's not to say the current situation is entirely without its perks. Here, there is a bathtub, we get to drive the Tesla, and there's a washing machine and dryer at our disposal. All up, we'll probably save at least some money (though we are still paying the full rent and other expenses at our house during this time).
Then there are the pets—the primary reason we’re here. Two cats and two chickens. I adore them, so I don’t mind looking after them.



I miss my standing desk and my office chair at home, but somehow I’ve been feeling productive in the office space here. Meanwhile, T has been relegated to working on the couch and at the dining room table. This house is not set up for two people working from home.
I still can’t get over that this is going to be for eight weeks. Hopefully I’ll feel better about it after some time has passed.
-Sara
Pre-order coming soon!
Quick update on Clashing with the CEO. I have started setting up a pre-order page on my website. It’s not quite ready yet, but maybe by the next newsletter I’ll be ready to go live with it. So, watch this space!
Link roundup
📚Book world news and views from around the web
Romance Readers Swoon for Brooklyn’s Newest Bookstore [The New York Times]
At 10 a.m. on a recent Saturday, a line of nearly 50 people — mostly women — stretched down a busy block in Park Slope, Brooklyn. Their eyes were on a pink-painted storefront adorned with pink balloons.
On the Difficulty of Getting Rid of Books [Literary Hub]
It’s not that we wouldn’t keep them if we could, but there is the undeniable matter of finite space.