The blind leading the blind

Last night my aunt called to ask if I would stay at her house while she and my uncle travel abroad. This would mean I have to look after her teenage kids. Me? A chaperone? She really doesn't know me at all, does she? I don't know what possessed her to ask me. Everyone else must be busy. And I don't know why the hell I said yes! I couldn't come up with a viable reason for me not to help out, other than I'm completely unsuited to the task. And I'm not sure I want her knowing that. These kids are practically grown. They don't need me for anything, and they aren't going to listen to me anyway. I wouldn't listen to me, why should they? I was a little hellion at their age! Although I never got caught, which is perhaps why the aura of respectability looms over me. Or she's lost her ever-loving mind. Two weeks not sleeping in my own bed. Two weeks sans the warm and snuggly and frequently (thankfully!) virile L next to me. And lord above, their house is a museum! I'm going to be terrified of screwing things up. My dogs! Oh, I'm going to miss their little snuggly, fuzzy selves. Waaaaaaaaaah! I don't wanna! I'm pathetic. This isn't for months. Maybe she'll regain her sanity in the interim.