Not everyone likes overnight guests.

I'm sorry to admit it, but I'm one.

After years of having to share personal space with those I didn't choose to share it with -- from brothers and sisters in cramped bedrooms in my childhood to my fellow soldiers in barracks -- I am kind of obsessed with having my own room, my own space.

After all these years, I love being able to come home and take off my clothes and just do what I want.

When you announce that you're coming to see me, and expect to be put up for a night or more, it disrupts my carefully planned schedule: waking up at a certain time, coming downstairs to put on the coffee, then reading the newspapers. And not getting dressed.

Suddenly you show up, and all that is thrown into disarray. Do you need breakfast? What do you eat? What don't you eat? Do we have the kind of oatmeal you demand? Eggs and bacon? I can cook it, but I need to know ahead of time.

Once you're here, I'm perfectly ready and willing to show you around all day, but if you're going to be here for long(er than I want you to be), you might consider renting a car and showing yourself around. I probably had things I wanted to do before you came, and I probably still have them. We can provide meals, but only up to a point. After a couple of days, you should buy some groceries or spring for a dinner out.

In short, come and see me, and we'll drink and laugh and have a great time, but when it's time to go nighty-night, please go somewhere else.

Bedtime is total relaxation time. It's when we get to take off our clothes, not bother with our hair or make-up, put on something comfortable, and lie down -- with or without a similarly undressed partner -- to watch TV or read or just go to sleep. It's when we're at our most vulnerable and most ourselves. Most relaxed.

And the last thing we want is someone else in the house.

The common accepted practice, from time immemorial, is to welcome anyone into your home any time they showed up. I'm not sure where that got started, probably back when we were all destitute and living in caves or lean-tos or crude cabins and welcomed any other human, just for the company or maybe when we knew they were on the run from the Huns or the Nazis or whoever and that we had to take them in or they'd die.

But times have changed, and most of us now aren't hunted unto death by predators, human or animal, and we can make travel plans ahead of time, meaning that we can let potential hosts know when we might be in their neighborhood and give them some warning -- and ask if it's okay for us to drop in.

It's especially hard on those of us who live in states that people like to visit on vacation. I guess the natural inclination is to say, "Who do we know there who would take us in?" Then comes the email: "Hey, we'll be out your way in June, and we look forward to spending time with you. Can you put us up for a few days?"

Well, maybe yes, maybe no.

If I invited you, yes. If you invited yourself, maybe not.

There are two classes of people who can always stay with us overnight and even for a while longer if it's not too long: family and good friends. Family meaning mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters and grandparents and grown children. Period. Good friends meaning those who know they're always welcome because they've always been, and who always welcome us into their own homes when we're in their towns.

If you don't fit into either of those groups, ask first. (In fact, ask first in any case.)

Staying overnight -- especially for more than one night -- at someone else's house is more of an imposition than many of us think. The entire family schedule of those we're visiting is disrupted. You don't mean to do it, but you do. There is someone else in the house, who needs his or her own bedroom and bathroom space.

I know that there are those among us who love houseguests, who yearn for them -- who maybe are lonely for company -- but lots of us aren't like that. We have developed daily routines that suit us and don't like to have them interrupted by guests with other routines. Come to see us -- if invited -- but respect the orderly business of the home your staying in. Make no special demands. Try to fit in. And if you're visiting for more than a day or so, make yourself scarce for big parts of the day and give your hosts as much of the space they're used to as you can. Be invisible unless summoned.

We all know the dictum that visitors and fish stink after three days. Observe it.

In the meantime: So nice to see you! Do come again! Can I pack you a lunch to take on the road with you? Bye bye now! Be sure to write!

I like people -- really, honestly like people -- but in small doses. I want to see you, my old friend, but not every morning in my kitchen for a whole week! And you don't want me in your kitchen for a whole week either, right? Especially if I invited myself!

Put me down as cranky and crotchety, but that's just who I am.

I respect and even honor those who give up their personal space willingly, graciously, to others. They are better people than me. Granted some of them are desperate for company, but others really are just the kind of people I'm not. I thank them for taking you in when I don't want to.

So go stay with them. I'll meet you for lunch, okay? My treat.