Dear Person Who May Never Enter My Home Again

Dear Person (formally known fondly as 'Friend')

It was unexpected to see you the other evening. I would have said it was an unexpected pleasure, but unfortunately I cannot tell a lie. Well I can, but I don't want to.

It has been many months since you had graced our home with your presence. Initially seeing you brought us joy. And then you had to go and open your mouth. The joy evaporated soon after.

I can only say that you seemed to have changed so drastically since your last visit that I can only hope one of two things has happened to you. Either A) You contracted some rare condition that caused you to develop a major personality disorder, or B) Your evil twin/clone was sent in your place. That said, we still tried very hard to spend a tolerable evening with you.

It so happened that when you arrived dinner was almost completely prepped. Luckily it was that much-beloved crowd pleaser: pizza. Ah, pizza, so versatile! A yummy favorite that can accomodate innumerous dietary restrictions and varied accounts of taste. I was glad that I had chosen to make 2 of those 8 inch medium sized cheesy wonders.

Your single glance at the 'adult' pizza told me that you would not be partaking of it. (I guessed as much by your comments of "Ewwww, onions make me gag!" and "Yuck....banana peppers. Nasty!" These comments were of course, accompanied by unneccesary facial contortions, hand gestures, and the timeless 'fake-vomit' gesture.) This was all actually a good thing, since my husband generally likes to eat a whole one of these himself.

So you had to resort yourself to grazing over to the 'kids' pizza. Classic pepperoni and cheese at its finest. What you are not aware of is this: the children and I cannot consume a whole of these pizza pies in one evening. I know this, and I still make too much on purpose. You see, reheated pizza is one of the best lunches a busy mom can have. But guests are guests, and I consigned myself to not having seconds on the following day. What I didn't consign myself to was not even being able to eat firsts! You really should make a note to yourself that a guest should not help themselves to six slices of an eight-slice pizza.

But all that aside, Person, for now at least. We have two major areas of congregation in our home. The study is mostly off limits to guests, as that is where school studies and work are dealt with. The other is the living room. Cluttered, comfy and inviting.

Person, I know you realize we have an extensive collection of videos and DVDs available to watch. This does not mean I am a rental agency. So no, I wouldn't let you take just those 7 DVDs with you to watch at your other friend's house. This also does not mean that you can take the disc I was watching out of the player and pick your own from the shelf. Especially not when the movie of your choosing happens to be a 2 and a half hour badly dubbed French werewolf movie that I have already viewed 42 times.

The thing about my house is, Person, that I keep a variety of pillows and blankets folded (quite out of the way) in the corner of the living room. These come in handy when you want to wrap up on the couch, or when the children have friends over for sleepovers. I am, also, very particular about these items. You see, I would not let you crawl into my personal marriage bed to get comfortable. So I don't know why you thought it would be okay to dig through the pile of (neatly folded) blankets to find "the softest one." Do you wonder why you couldn't find it? Because, I had the 'softest one.' Strange how I like things like that in the comfort of my own dwelling.

Now despite all of the above mentioned things there is one finality that I cannot overlook. See, I put up with a lot from you that evening. Not the least of which was that you dropped by unannounced at 6 pm on a Monday evening after a long 3-day weekend. The problem was that apparently you didn't notice something I figured was quite obvious. After 9 pm, when the children were bathed and sent to bed, did you not wonder why my husband and I had quit contributing to the conversation and were trying (without too much subtlety) to hide our yawns? I know you lead a mostly responsibility-free existence, but a lot of us do not. Yes I am aware that I work from home, and that the boys are homeschooled. That does not mean we do not rise early. When i finally ushered you out of the hosue at 11 pm did you not notice the coldness of my goodbye? Or the fact that I hastily shut the door behind you? Or the sound of the deadbolt being quickly thrown into place? Or maybe the fact that I turned the porch light off before you had even reached our front steps?

Maybe not. But I do hope notice that I will not be answering your knock in the future.

Yours Truly (Fed Up),
Occupants of the Home You Will Never Enter Again