In a way it is a weird feeling moving into someone's house when they are away. One of the things I do is open all the cupboards, and see where things are kept. I check out the fridge and see what is there. The folk are going to be away for three weeks, so if there is anything there that is likely to be inedible in three weeks time, I know they would expect me to use it. There's often not a lot, but rather than throw it out it may as well be used.
In this fridge there is going to be a whole lot left - chocolates, chocolate biscuits, and a whole lot of foodstuffs that I would never eat. Fruit, vegetables, milk, eggs. That's a start.
I make a cup of coffee and discover the kettle is dangerous. It is a cheapy brand, and doesn't work well, and water leaks through the switch. I choose NOT to use it.
I decide to put my suitcase on a bed downstairs. Most of my stuff doesn't need hanging, so I am happy to live out of the suitcase, and the bed is a good spot for it.
I set my laptop up on the dining table. I can still eat out on the deck, and I can spread my papers, books, notes, pens, and printer out on the table.
The dog is unsure of me and keeps her distance. I ignore her. Sooner or later we will be friends but there is no need to rush it.