You already know that I love my house.  If you don’t, you could read one of about ten posts about that.  This one is ever-so-slightly different though.  Today, I love my house because it lets me have guests.

My old apartment had two beds in one bedroom.  It was kind of a high-class dorm situation because I moved from a two-bedroom apartment to a large one-bedroom to a tiny one-bedroom over the course of three years.  I could stay in the twin bed when parents or close friends visited, but it definitely wasn’t a set-up that encouraged me to invite new friends to stay with me while they were in town.

Now I’m fortunate enough to claim not one, but two extra bedrooms.  It does seem unnecessary most of the time.  I even occasionally switch bedrooms so it feels like I’m using the whole house.  It’s kind of like when I used to pile every one of my stuffed animals into bed with me so that none of them would feel left out.  (That was about 20 years ago, for the record.)

Then there are times when all three bedrooms are full.  That’s been the case for the past few days, and it’s been great.  There are people coming and going all day, and it makes the house feel like your favorite coffee shop that only your good friends know about.  This particular coffeehouse even lets my dog hang out all day without parental supervision, so that’s a plus.

Anyway, the point is that I’m glad friends can stay with me now, new and old.  And if I’m really confessing, I’ll also say that I didn’t vacuum or dust for this round of guests.  It’s a little gross, yet strangely liberating.