Summer House Guest Stress: Here today, Here tomorrow
My parents, though otherwise tastemakers of the highest regard, have an inordinate amount of quote-bearing accent pillows. “If it’s not one thing, it’s your mother” is my favorite. “You never know how many friends you have ‘til you have a hit show,” is one somebody gave my Dad when he produced a Broadway musical. Nice house guests often try to give you things that match with your existing décor, so, in the case of quote pillows, you have to watch out. They perpetuate themselves.
House guests are often the subject of quote pillows. “Guests fill me with sorrow; here today, here tomorrow” is a relic from the ‘70s that lives on the fold-out couch in my parents’ guest house, which is now my Dad’s office, so no one really shacks up there anymore anyway. But when they did, and my parents would put nice sheets on that fold-out couch, arrange some freshly cut flowers, and show the guests around their temporary digs, I used to wonder to myself if the very un-welcome “here today, here tomorrow” message would negate all those kind, hosty gestures. But I guess by the time the guest sees it, they’re already a guest, invited or uninvited, so it’s too late. What’s he going to do? Leave? Apologize for still being there?
I believe that I was deeply influenced by the message on that pillow. Because, in theory, I love to be a host. I like to have friends around, and spend longer periods of time with them, and be warm and welcoming. But in practice, I’m just as stingy with my surroundings as the pillow suggests. This contrast plays out constantly, after a few glasses of wine. Some people drink and tell long boring stories, and others drunk dial ex-boyfriends. Me? I invite people to visit. A few weeks before leaving for Nantucket this summer, my husband busted me issuing grandiose invitations to at least three couples (some with children and pets, no less!) to fly cross-country and stay with us during our 3 week vacation. Blame it on Rosé: the next day, with a heavy head(ache) and conscience, I didn’t follow up with any of those couples. Now we’re in Nantucket, and I’m so glad I didn’t. The time is so fleeting here – I can’t be held back from my requisite beach reading, bike riding, or lobster eating because some pesky house guest has never been to the Whaling Museum, or wants to sleep in until 11:00a.
Oh, but I’m kidding. When guests get here – like our friends Laura and Henry, who have come to be the ONLY people we actually host while we’re here – I’m thrilled to receive them. They get into our groove (see Henry, right, enthusiastically wearing his guest gift, a Yacht Club visor, as he lunches at the club) and don’t demand that we do anything differently. We are all able to do what we like to do on our own, but do it together. And isn’t that what the best friendships aim for? They feel like relatives.
Of course, my sister has a quote pillow that says “Friends welcome; relatives by appointment only.”
