The Unwelcome Guest

Dear Unwelcome Guest,

It has come to my attention that you have chosen my family for a little middle of the night visit. . . again!  While I have remained a polite host during your previous stays, I am drawing the line this time.  Here are a few ground rules that I would like you to follow during your stay.

No longer will you be allowed to arrive unexpectedly while we slumber.  For future reference, please provide me with at least a 2 day notice of your arrival.  That way I will have the extra sheets, blankets, and towels clean and ready for your stay.  When you arrive unexpectedly, I inevitably am already behind on my laundry, and therefore, you usually add to Mt. Washington.  Providing me a little notice will allow me to refrain from such rants as, "For the love of God . . . again?!?!"  and "I am not ready for this tonight!"  I will also be able to handle your visit more graciously if you decide to arrive during daylight.  Trying to make accommodations for you while I am half asleep and blind makes for a rough first impression.  And while I do have the blind-man-pat down to an exact science,  if you were to provide me with a little notice, I would be able to either sleep in my contacts, or at least have my 10 year old prescription glasses handy, so that my lack of sight would not be a hindrance to your stay.  I could immediately direct you to our facilities and accommodations.  It is the least that you could do.

Along those lines, no longer will you be allowed to visit each of my family members individually.  I know that you are a yearly guest and all, but, really, when you visit with each of us individually, you prolong your visit by days and days.  Why not just visit with one or two of us during each of your stays?  That way, you will still feel as if your stay was worthwhile, and we will not feel so exhausted and drained when you finally leave.  I am not one to complain, but when you come, it is hours and hours of extra work for hubby and me during your stay, and then when you do leave, it is hours more, but by that time, we are quite worthless.  After entertaining all of your whims at any hour of the day, hubby and I just want to catch up on our sleep, let out the stale air that you create, and give thanks that you are finally gone.

Finally, I politely request that you in no way bring along your so-called friends.  Frankly, they are nothing but trouble.  They may think that they are funny when they cause us to double over and hold our bellies, but trust me, we are not laughing.  It is more likely that we are crying from the thought of another unwanted guest that refuses to be polite.  We are crying because your friends create more laundry, more yucky smells, and more chaos each and every time that you insist on bringing them.  Plus, they tie up the bathroom for hours at a time.  Remember, making us cry and feel as if we were kicked in the stomach is not the way to receive an invitation for next year's visit.  

So, that is it, Mr. Stomach Flu, or should I call you, Mr. U.P. Chuck? Keep in mind that this year, I mean business!  I have invited Mr. Clorox to stay on permanently, and he has agreed.  You may want to rethink your visit for next year.

Your host,

Annie

P.S.  Please relay this information to your friend, Ms. Di Arrhea .  I would hate to think that she was not informed of our changes.