There have been many wonderful guests in my home, and a few rude ones.
There may be more rude ones but they are polite enough in their rudeness to talk about me behind my back. The usual complaint is my home isn’t nice enough. We have old furniture, I hang a lot of art, and P’s toys may not be confined to her room. Nothing is rotting and people aren’t tripping over anything. But, I don’t dust daily, and floors aren’t waxed or whatever those better than me do to their floors. Some people enjoy cleaning. While I may spend time writing, as that is what I enjoy, they are cleaning, and that is fine. That doesn’t mean one is better than the other. It means two different people live in the same world and each have every right to do so.
A certain (middle class/upper middle class / aspiring middle class) demographic seems to produce the less pleasant guests. Not everyone from this group is rude, but everyone who is rude is from this group. My polite response about having a child and cats is frequently met with, “Well that was your choice.” It totally was. I am happy to have cat hair and doll parts in the corners of rooms in exchange for the love my family provides. That was my choice, absolutely. It was also my choice to invite you over, and yours to accept the invitation. My child and cats are no secret to anyone. The complainers are also those who grew up with housecleaners, for the most part, so I have a very hard time taking them seriously. I am shy and anxious, if I invite you over it means I genuinely want to see you. If my home isn’t up to par with your standards, don’t come over. It’s probably already gotten to the point where you are no loner invited over anyway. There are coffee shops everywhere, salvageable relationships can meet at these places.
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