Last summer (August 2, 2007) this column pointed out what a drag it is helping people move. It was a subtle message to whoever was reading: Stop asking me to haul your crap all the time. It worked. No one has.

House-sitting, on the other hand, is a favor I’m always up for. Talk about a sweet gig. It’s basically a controlled pillage.

For starters, it’s guaranteed the pad you’ll look after is way nicer than the ones you’re used to living in (people don’t hire house-sitters to make sure nothing happens to their dump while they’re away). It’s like a mini-vacation that you get paid for!

Second, the job requires no skill. Basically – other than familiarizing yourself with the couch, the refrigerator and the Hi-Def channels for the flat screen – all you have to do is recline.

Third, as long as you don’t burn the place down, you’re doing a good job.

That’s a far better deal than moving. All you get there is a bad back and an empty promise of free beer and food.