Be my guest

I recently attended a pig roast in Ohio, hosted by my parents. Don't ask me why a vegetarian spends hundreds of dollars and hours of travel time to watch people eat pork; it can't be rationally explained. All I can say is that I enjoy seeing all of the guests, although this is tempered by watching my husband eat a meal composed entirely of pork (including the eyeball).

My parents moved into a new, larger home a few years ago, which has provided the space for two offices as well as two guest rooms. I have thus discovered that my mother has a knack for provisioning guest rooms. She makes sure that each room has a nightstand with a lamp and alarm clock, which provides a level of comfort above and beyond the overhead light. Towels are laid out and there's an empty dresser for your stuff. This year she also set out a few books that might make interesting bedtime reading and I loved that. I have an aunt in Georgia who always puts fresh flowers and snacks in her guest rooms. I appreciate all the thought these people making their guests comfortable, and I can't wait until I have a home big enough to provide the same courtesies.