... they just keep coming and coming !
It is true that our 'sea change' has brought me many challenges. I have coped with these with varying degrees of success, but there is one area in which I fail miserably, and that is in tolerating the vermin known as the visit(wh)or(e).
Moving to a coastal location is wonderful in that your home becomes a holiday destination for those that you love and miss. Yet, moving to a coastal location is revolting in that your home becomes a holiday destination for everyone else you know or have ever met, and even the odd person you haven't.
People who never even knew our address when we lived in Sydney, (much less made a habit if calling over) have suddenly begun to appear from the woodwork at holiday times to form a queue on our front doorstep.
My personal favourite is the knock on the door at dinner time that turns out to be some 'acquaintances' that are driving 'up to Queensland' from Sydney and have conveniently decided to stop for the night. After a 7 hour drive, they usually have the energy to eat the meal I rush to prepare before they retire to the bed I've hurriedly changed to 'get an early start in the morning'.
The following morning we invariably awake to find our 'guests' have left at the crack of dawn, their only legacy an unmade bed, no milk and assorted breakfast dishes. If we're lucky, they also use our towels and we get to wash them with the linen we have to take off the bed they used, too. People are so thoughtful.
Personally, I'd rather pay for a motel room than impose myself on a casual acquaintance for an unannounced overnight visit. Yet it seems I am in the minority there.
My hubby and I are on the point of telling everyone we know "no visits unless we know a few weeks in advance". We had hoped for an 'open door' policy for close family and friends, but these uninvited guests who actually seem to think they're doing us a favour in 'stopping' by have put an end to that.
I love nothing more than providing hospitality to those that I really do care for, but I am becoming so resentful of the invasions of 'fair-weather friends' that I have learned to dread the warmer months. My hubby is threatening to send the next unexpected dinnertime doorstep arrival to a nearby caravan park, and as much as I have avoided this so far, I fear that even I may have reached my limit.
Perhaps it's time to install a 'no vacancy' sign at the 'Dew Drop Inn'. 