I do not have a guest room, and I do not stay in guest rooms.

This is bound to cause controversy and I’m assuming it may also bring out my fellow closeted non-guest room loving comrades, as well.

Yes, you read it right, I don’t have a guest room. I also don’t believe in them. I don’t stay in others guest rooms (this includes family, too). I hate guest rooms. I’m not trying to be a jerk, and I’d love for you to visit. But, I want you to stay in a hotel. And when I come to visit you, I will also be staying in a hotel.

I’m probably not starting my first post here off on the right foot. You love that Ina Garten has a perfect guest room with freshly baked cookies on the nightstand, along with her guest’s favorite flowers. Awesome sauce. I love to be the hostess too. I love having dinner parties and treating my guests like royalty. I always try to send them home with delicious baked goods too. I just also believe in personal space.

There are two people in this world that I am used to spending 24/7 with, and those two are my husband and daughter. I love having visitors come into town, but I can’t be with you all day, every day of your visit. I need a little time with my two people in the morning and in the evenings. I feel that morning and evening barrier makes for a great visit. It gives both guest and host a chance to unwind and take a break.

I want to grab my morning coffee. Chase my daughter around. Get her dressed. Hangout with my hubby. Get myself dressed. Then come get you to tackle a fantastic day together. At the end of the day, I want to come back home and play with my daughter. Watch a little TV with the hubs. Do our little nighttime rituals and go to bed. It’s breathing room. It’s healthy personal space.

I do not want to sit in my room, afraid to come out and wake someone because I’m hungry (true story happened). Or lie in bed bored because I’m on another time zone and there is no TV in the room I’m staying in. Or sleep on a lumpy uncomfortable mattress. Or leave with everything I own covered in a layer of your cat’s hair. Or find that you are sitting outside my bedroom door waiting for me to wake up (also happened – let’s just call these all true stories and move on).

So, don’t be upset when you announce you are coming to town and I don’t invite you to stay at my house. I will gladly send you some great hotel recommendations. And please don’t be upset when you suggest I stay at your house and I politely decline.

My grandfather always used to say that house guests and fish start to smell after two days. Actually he said three days, but I think it takes less time. I want to enjoy your visit and not be counting the days until you leave, or the days until I leave. (Yes, I have stayed in guest rooms before and that’s why I’m saying no to them from here on out.)

Plus, as I do my morning dash sans clothes to the dryer to fetch clean underwear, do you really want to walk in on that?

If you want to join my anti guest room club, please Instagram me @croissantitc