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People who have been gone from home for a while often say some version of "I can't wait to be back in my own bed" as their time away comes to an end. I haven't had my own bed since December 2011.
My partner and I have been permanent housesitters around Greater Victoria for more than eight years now, and before that, volunteers with Cuso International in Honduras and Nicaragua. We slept in the beds that came with the house rentals in Central America, and have slept in probably 60 or more beds since returning to Vancouver Island in May 2016 and taking up a life of living in other people's houses while they travel.
We had a classic black and white striped mattress with coils you could feel through the padding in our Copan Ruinas time, and then quite a decent and stiff box spring set in Managua, where you need a bed that barely dents when laid on if you're going to survive months of 38 C with nothing but a ceiling fan.
We logged some crazy mattress hours when travelling in the countryside with our Central American work colleagues, who could sleep with ease in the damndest situations and expected us to do the same when on the road with them. The nights of six people in one small room on homemade bunk beds stand out for me.
Since returning to Victoria, we've pretty much had every variation of bed: some with super-thick mattresses, rock-hard ones, memory foam, one that was too short, adjustable ones that tilted up at head, foot and middle. Some have rolled us inward, while others sent us plummeting to the floor on a sloped edge. We generally get a decent night's sleep no matter what.
We've had a few conversations with people who would like to be permanent housesitters like us. I wouldn't say that an ability to put up with any kind of mattress is the first thing that needs to be considered, but it definitely needs some thought. Are you prepared to spend all your nights on whatever bed is in play? Are you ready to give up that late-holiday yearning for a return to your own bed?
People hearing for the first time that we are permanent housesitters - perhaps more realistically described as houseless drifters who carry their belongings around in reuseable grocery bags and mismatched totes - have one of two reactions. Either their faces light up and they immediately start thinking about how cool it might be to do the same, or they pull back in instant horror. It's as clear as that.
If you're the type who would lean in excitedly, housesitting as a lifestyle choice has a lot of pros.
The permanent housesitter lives virtually without household costs, enjoying a wonderfully diverse array of experiences in all kinds of different homes and locations that might otherwise be outside their affordability range.
They aren't weighed down by stuff, mortgages or tenancy agreements. They never have to worry about managing bad neighbours; they'll never have one for longer than a few months at most. They live in the gaps of other people's lives, which really appeals to me at a philosophical level as another way to minimize my impact on this world.
The daily reality, of course, does have some bumps that have to be considered.
For one thing, you're almost certainly going to have a series of dogs to look after, because that's the No. 1 reason people want a housesitter in the first place, based on our experience. We love dogs, so yay to that, but they do require your full attention, especially if you want the homeowner to invite you back.
For another, you're going to live like a packhorse. Cancel out any images in your head of a footloose housesitter arriving at your latest housesit with a breezy backpack and nothing more. This is your LIFE, so you're going to arrive at every door with bags and bags of the craziest stuff. (We never let our hosts see us move in or out.)
Anything you can't live without, you're going to be carrying around. I think you'd be surprised at just how many things you end up carrying.
Some examples from our own experience: My keyboard and stacks of music, because I must have piano time in my life. Our sound bar and Roku box, because you can't be sure whether a person's going to have good TV sound and a Netflix subscription.
Baking utensils, laptops and electronics, essential spices or cooking oils, a favourite frying pan. All bathroom stuff. (I invite you to open up your bathroom cupboards right now and reflect on how many things that actually is.) My makeup and jewellry. A giant light-up 10x mirror, because who can put their makeup on without one?
Seasonal clothing and outer wear, while remembering at least a few fancier pieces for when you go out. The perfect collection of five pairs of shoes/boots that cover all needs. Recreational equipment, like our two bikes, a folding kayak, a blow-up boat for the grandkids. Food and baking supplies, including the 20-kg bag of sugar bought impulsively during the Rogers Sugar Crisis of 2023.
And obviously, it would not be the life for your child-rearing years. That would just be a misery all round.
The housesit that you're moving into may or may not be ready for all the stuff you'll be dragging. We've had housesits where people kindly clear out dresser drawers and space in the closet for our clothes and leave a roomy fridge, and housesits without an inch of space to spare anywhere. You won't know which one you're getting until you move in, so that old Cuso International motto of "flexible and adaptable" that got us through our four-plus years in Central America is still as useful as ever.
How often will you be moving? So often. Curious people who think they want to give housesitting a try ask me for advice and inevitably note that they'd prefer something long-term. Just let that concept of long-term fly right out of your head if you're thinking about this life. Mostly you're going to be moving every three to four weeks.
As I write, we're living in a Fairfield housesit that we've been in for four years, but there is a unique and quirky series of reasons for why it has lasted this long, starting with the pandemic. I'm very sure we'll never see the likes of this housesit again. And even though it's been four years, we've still had to live that whole time in complete uncertainty, having to be at least somewhat prepared to move out at any moment.
So maybe you'll be the lucky housesitter who lands the year-long gig in some perfect beachfront home, but I'd strongly counsel against even thinking that's remotely likely. If you aren't prepared to move around a lot, with much loading and unloading of your weird pile of stuff, you'll grow tired of this life very quickly.
One more thing: It's a lot of work to ensure a steady string of housesits, particularly without a Plan B. When we're in full drifter mode, I'm constantly hustling and looking. People aren't going to drop housesits in your lap, so be prepared to devote time to the hunt.
But if you've read to this point and are still thinking that a housesitting life sounds great, let me tell you, it's got a lot going for it (and not just the absence of household costs, though that is obviously a very significant draw.) If you like staying in motion, keeping things lean, a constant change of scenery and time spent with many, many dogs and the occasional cat, it's all that and more.
As it turns out, housesitting also lets us spend time in beautiful homes on well-gardened properties that we'd never be enjoying if it weren't for housesitting. We had a full-size pool for one long, hot August stay, and have spent many weeks in Gulf Island homes close to the water.
We've enjoyed the most gigantic televisions. We've lounged on the nicest of decks and the comfiest of lazyboy chairs. Housesitting brings so much variety into my dog walks and cycling as well, with one new neighbourhood after another to explore.
"It is within the tension that uncertainty brings that creativity is truly born," wrote Daniella Sachs on Medium. If uncertainty and constant change is your jam, this is the life.
