living in someone else's house

I live in a parsonage. Sometimes I like to call it the vicarage because it sounds fancy and English. Billy and I don't pay rent.  If anything goes wrong, we call the church council, which is awesome since being a minister isn't exactly a lucrative career. Except it's not our house. Many people at our church have told me about how the church bought the parsonage (which I should mention is not right by the church, but in the same town), the time that someone stole the refrigerator and how great the previous minister's wife was at gardening. I can still see the remains of that awesome gardening in our backyard where all kinds of things have bloomed this spring and summer thanks to no help from me. I can't even tell you what the plants and flowers are and I've already killed 2 plants that church members gave me. My single planting contribution last year was planting marigolds around the house as a natural bug deterrent. At the beginning of July, my mom helped me take it up a notch with the gardening. By taking it up a notch, I mean 5 porch pots plus my marigolds and the miracle flowers that bloom despite no attention from me. This is the end of week 2 and they are still alive. In case there are parishioners who do "drive bys" of our house, maybe they'll be convinced that I have a green thumb, but they better come this week. I can't make any promises for next week.
As much as I love not paying a mortgage or rent, it's weird that I live in someone else's house and that someone else (our church) is financially responsible for the upkeep or repairs. Especially when you have an 1 year old dog. Jolene has a boyfriend, Champ. Champ lives across the street and they met one fateful night this spring when Champ saw Jolene across the street peeing and ran to her. They have been inseparable ever since. Champ whines for her from his window and has been known to get loose from his backyard and run to our house and sit on our porch and howl for her. Jolene has also taken advantage of the 2 seconds when I take her off her lead in the backyard to run to Champ. I have never seen two dogs interact the way they do; it's adorable. What isn't adorable is that Champ and Jolene teach each other how to do bad things. Jolene taught Champ how to dig a hole underneath a bush in his backyard so that they can both sit together in the hole and rest in the shade. Champ taught Jolene how to tear up the carpet in our basement. I used to be able to leave them alone in our basement, which is long, unfurnished and perfect for playing, until I found what Jolene and Champ did to our carpet. The church council will find out eventually unless we get permission to pull up the carpet. For now, I have an old coffee table over the problem area. If we get in trouble though, I'm totally blaming Champ. My mom always said that boys were trouble.

P.S. You can see pictures of Jolene and Champ's love affair on my Facebook. He's the dashing reddish-haired dog in my recent video.