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Let me say this about that.

I really enjoy going on vacation and staying with friends.  I travelled so much during my working years that I have come to completely loath hotels.  Given a choice between a five star hotel and a buddy’s hunting shack, I’ll take the shack every time.  There is a level of comfort that you get at a friend’s place that is impossible to achieve at a hotel.  The atmosphere is friendlier.  The food is better.  The beer is colder.  And, your wife has someone to occupy her time while you and your buddy watch the big game. 

But, there is a dark side to visiting a friend’s home ….. especially if you are a guy.  Once it becomes firm that company is coming for a visit and will be staying over for a few days, all wives contract a horrible condition called…    “Hostess Freak-Out.”  “Hostess Freak-out”  is a condition that manifests itself in the complete disintegration of the wife’s ability to think clearly, maintain a normal tone of voice, and say anything that remotely makes sense to a guy.  On the other hand, “Hostess Freak-Out” magnifies a woman’s ability to make “to-do” lists that must be complete before company arrives.

“Hostess Freak-Out” to-do lists are not just your run-of-the-mill tasks like mowing the yard, moving that boat motor out of the backyard, or patching the hole in the screen door.  When company comes, the average American wife will arrange a task list that would rival the battle plans for the invasion of Normandy.  I stayed a few days with a buddy in Atlanta last week.  Basically, we were coming in to town to go to a football game, have some beers and hang out for a few days.  Now, I have known this guy for thirty-five years.  We have seen each other naked.  We have fought common enemies AND each other.  We have given each other stuff to the point that we don’t really know who owns most of our crap.  In other words, we know each other well.  A few days before our arrival, his lady informed him that the workers would be arriving the next day to put a new roof on the house!!!

Wives also develop a demented sense of priority during periods of “Hostess Freak-Out”.  They seem to infect the wives of the visitors with an odd behavior I call “Company Towels”.  This peculiar syndrome is the antithesis of normal guy behavior when visiting a buddy.  Guys are given detailed instructions by their wives as to which towels to use.  Apparently, totally unknown to most guys, we all own two sets of towels.  Curiously, “Company Towels” are put out during company visitation, but visiting wives instruct their husbands that these are strictly OFF LIMITS.   Monograms are a dead give-away to “Company Towels”.   Look around the bathroom until you find an old tattered rag that looks like it has been ravaged by a Rottweiler on crack, and that’s your towel.

There are also a number of other “Company” things that are strickly OFF LIMITS.

Shambo:  “My, my, what a beautiful table setting.  Where do you want me to sit?”

Mrs. Shambo:  “We’re not going to eat on her “Company China”, you nimrod.  Now grab a paper plate and go sit at that TV tray.”

Finally, you get through the day, excuse yourself and go to bed.

Shambo:  “I’m gonna hit the sack now, dear.”

Mrs. Shambo:  “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?  You can’t sleep on those pillows.  Those are ‘Company Pillows’.  Store them in the closet and grab those two old sand bags and sleep on them.”

And, that’s all I have to say about that.

Shambo