Houseguest — Oversized Tee

I like a guest who makes themselves at home. I want them to find a glass, move a cushion, and say if the music is dreadful. There is a point, though, at which somebody develops an opinion about where your lamp should live, and you realize that the visit has acquired ambitions.

They have been here twenty minutes. Already the chair has turned toward the window, a small table has moved, and the lamp is receiving the kind of attention normally reserved for a rescue. I am standing in the middle of my own room, enjoying this more than I expected. It turns out I have been living beside a very good corner without properly introducing myself.

I had put the cream tee on before they arrived and spent a while trying it with trousers I usually save for evenings out. It looked good, which was part of the reason I suggested having the drinks here. I wanted to enjoy my own room in an outfit I had bothered to choose. My guest asks me to stand a little farther over. For a moment I think the outfit is receiving its due. They are looking at the corner. When they eventually say I look good, I am standing where the lamp used to be. I accept this as a separate compliment.

My guest asks if I mind the changes. I say no. I do mind that they appear to have improved things while I was making the drinks. I had invited them over to admire my taste. Now I am being asked to participate in its correction. We sit down. The lamp stays where they put it. Later, after they leave, I move it an inch to the left. That feels like enough of a contribution to continue calling this my house.

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