Withering Glance: Perfect house guest

RN: So how did that house-guest thing go?

CP: My weekend visitors were a dream-come-true. They arrived in the early Friday evening, we went out for dinner, they were back on the road by 10 a.m. Saturday. Along with hilarious stories from the Wild West, they brought a bottle of cava, and their own preferred granola. It was textbook.

RN: You didn't tell me that Miss Manners was rolling through Minneapolis for a one-night stand. How fortunate for you.

CP: It's just that so often these visits go another direction, and you wave goodbye with a smile while thinking, May You Never Return to These Parts.

RN: From my perspective, the most lasting house-guest benefit is the pre-visit scrub-down. Your housekeeper may be exhausted, but Chez Peck is undoubtedly sparkling like a bottle of Elizabeth Taylor's White Diamonds. Enjoy it.

CP: Had these guests walked in on Thursday night, they would have declared in unison: "What a dump!"

RN: Yeah, right. Let's hope they displayed the proper amount of gratitude and took you out to dinner, or arrived with a little something-something from Crate & Barrel or Surdyk's. What's your idea of a great host gift? And please, keep it G-rated.

RN: And here I've been cross-stitching "Dull people have immaculate homes" into a piece of calico bunting, just in case I ever found myself camped out in your guest room.

CP: Gimme some stimulating liquids: a superior coffee, a bottle of something sparkly.

RN: Cava is always welcome. None of this false "Your presence is present enough" sentiment. I can't imagine arriving empty-handed while basically using someone's home as a Days Inn.

CP: And please, no surprises, like showing up with an unannounced young child or a pet.

RN: That's why it's important to keep a list of conveniently located and moderately priced kennel and day-care contacts in your smartphone.

RN: And here I thought you were the crown prince of odd hours. That's what your neighbors blog about you, anyway.