Ive recently made up my mind not to have anyone over at my house any more. It isnt because Im stingy I own a detached home in the suburbs, a tidy back garden, and I always have enough provisions to lay out a decent spread.
So let me explain why Im done with the whole hosting routine. A lot of time is swallowed up cooking for visitors, and then theres the cleanup afterwards. I can cook, and Im quite a decent chef, but I dont enjoy spending half the day hunched over the stove. I love coming up with new ideas for my wife, Sarah, and our two kids, Lily and Oliver, but when it comes to entertaining guests Im reluctant to waste my energy trying to keep everyone happy. When friends or relatives drop by, Im forced to devote a good chunk of the afternoon to the kitchen, and it drives me mad watching everyone else relax and have a laugh while Im stuck at the hob. Of course the guests never offer a hand theyre there to unwind, not to help. And once theyve left, Im still left with a few hours of tidying up after their stay.
I try to tidy up while the guests are still in the house, but its a neverending battle. They dont litter the floor with candy wrappers, and the place doesnt look like a rubbish tip when they go, yet the order is inevitably thrown off. Furniture gets pushed around and has to be put back, kids toys end up scattered all over the living room, and the bedding needs changing. There are always stains on the tablecloth and curtains from the youngsters, and on one occasion a child knocked a vase off the windowsill we had to scoop up the soil, wash the floor, and replant the flower. They even manage to fiddle with locks and door handles.
Kids are their own breed; you cant keep an eye on every one of them, and you cant scold someone elses children. Their parents are busy chatting with other relatives, so the responsibility falls on the host. So not only do I have to cook, I also have to straighten up the whole house after theyre gone.
Guests also love to pry into our family life. I never do the laundry, let alone the underwear, when I know relatives are due to visit. The same goes for anything else I stash things in cupboards, but that doesnt stop them from asking to open the closet and see whats inside. Then there are those who scrutinise the kitchen as if it were a museum, which feels like an invasion of privacy. Sarah and I live in a compact flat, packed with furniture, vases and hanging plants, and every visitor seems to pluck a branch or two to take home.
I used to wonder whether I was the problem that perhaps I was just a poor host. But after counting the number of visits, I realised I simply dont have the stamina or desire to cook for guests and then scrub the whole place down. Id rather meet for a coffee out of the house, go for a walk, and return to a clean home waiting for me.
