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I Hate Houseguests

I hate houseguests.

I do. Is that awful?

When I lived in LA it was totally fine…I had extra rooms in which they could deposit their things/selves, and all my guests wanted to do was check in with me occasionally between trips to the beach or to Melrose Avenue. But now that I’m back in in New York, things are different: having a guest practically means having a bedmate. New York apartments do not permit privacy (our last apartment didn’t even have a bedroom door), and when you’re married that makes things kinda…weird. Not that I’m a prude in any sense of the word…but still. I need my alone moments.

I think being a great hostess is a spectacular quality, but honestly? It makes me crazy to have someone – anyone – invade our marital space…although I recognize that this is a not-very-nice way to be.

SO. I’m going to work on this.

My new mantra: my good friends (and my husband’s) are always welcome in our home, and should be treated like family.

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