If I ran a B & B

The other day after church, I was trying to restore some order to the part of the church house where the caretakers stay when they come to help out. With different caretakers every month, it is no wonder that items tend to wander from their original spots. It is not unusual to find pillows on the wrong bed, or a bedspread all folded up in a closet, or for an alarm clock to go AWOL.

As much as I appreciate what these wonderful people are doing to help us out, it is a little difficult for the obsessive-compulsive part of me to deal with the accompanying disorder in the house. So as I was trying to put things back where they belong, muttering about why people insist on washing pastel towels with their red shirts, Joe complimented me on my ability to restore order.

"You're so good at organizing stuff like this," he said. "You should run a bed and breakfast."

"Oh, you think so," I said.

"Well, not me, but you'd like it," he hastily amended.

Yeah, right. I can just imagine.

"I'm sorry," I would say to one guest. "You are not allowed any more towels."

"I beg your pardon?" the guest would say, slightly surprised.

"You've ruined three towels already with your makeup! You can't have any more. Do you use your good towels at home for this gunk? Yes...I suppose you do. Well, not in my establishment, you don't."

And thereupon would ensue a tug-of-war with a towel, and Joe would have to break up the tussle. He would apologize to the guest.

"Please excuse my wife...she's very attached to her towels. You see, she feels...well...somewhat maternal toward the towels. Responsible for their welfare and all." And he would gently take the towel from me and give it back to the guest.

"You always take their side," I'd accuse, after the guest had locked herself in her room.

Or I'd complain to Joe, "They never fold the towels after they use them. You'd think they were at home or something. People just don't have any manners."

"But you tell them to make themselves at home," he'd point out.

"Please," I'd say. "That doesn't mean they should live like pigs. When I say to make themselves at home, I mean my home."

Or, "There's candy missing from the welcome basket in Rm. 5," I'd complain to Joe. "That makes the third time this week someone stole something from one of those baskets!"

"But the guests are supposed to take those," he'd say in a voice reserved for small children being unreasonable. "Don't you have a sign on there that says 'Welcome, please help yourself' or something?"

"I don't mean for people to actually take any! It's just supposed to look nice and welcoming. Do people think I want to spend all my time running around replenishing those baskets? Do they have any idea how much work this all is?? You'd think they could help out by keeping their greedy hands off the goody basket."

"Maybe you should put a different sign on the baskets: 'Please look, but don't touch.' "

"What, and have peole think I'm ungracious?" I would sniff. "They'd never come back."

And that, Joe would think to himself, might not be such a bad thing.