On staying in a stranger's house

To stay in someone else's house, pet their dog,
Sleep in their bed--how Karmically disturbing!

The lab is to be fed at an hour when I
Can never manage to be there.

The clock's hand moves 330 degrees in my prescence;
Three-hundred and ninety out of it.

I have cold blood; I require the heat to be
Upped to 74 degrees, sixty-eight at night.

Blankets, quilts are sought out in abundance,
Pried form secret cubbies in dust-mote showers.

Other people's tubs and showers are strictly forbidden.
Other people's medicine chests are not.

I completely refuse to leave my hair in people's showers...
It unnerves me enough stuck to the walls of my own.

Half the Laborador, stuck to my coat, comes home with me midday
And my beagles' quick noses are jealously glued.

The green-eyed miniatures are to be prodded deliberately
But the Joy of Sex book must be replaced where found.

Trash bins go out Thursdays; bags replaced in trash cans;
Secrets and kitchen counters kept neat; gossip goes out as needed.

Making a mess in the kitchen becomes tedious;
The search for spoon, milk, paper towels, and trashcan never ends.

Leaving a milk ring on an antique table is sure to
Make the owner ponder its presence and throw out your number.

Numerous times I've tried to write in bed
In strange people's houses; always successless.

I've tried to write you here, dearest Mayaki,
But their awkward house-karma keeps throwing me off.