My friend  Mary Beth came over the other day, and the first thing she says is, “Geez, why are the curtains closed – it’s sunny out.”  Then she goes to the window and draws back the curtains before I have a chance to inhale.

Sure,  it’s sunny but it’s 20-freakin’degrees.

It’s freezing  cold outside, it’s an old house with old not-top-of-the-line windows, and I’m trying to watch the heat bill.

So, Mary Beth  is standing in front of the window, pleased as punch with herself for letting the sun in and I’m standing behind her, pissed as all get out that she’s rearranged my living room.

Where  do friends, yes, I mean the through-thick-and-and thin kind of friend,  get off telling me how to live?

Doncha’  just hate that – when your friends tell you what to do, what to like, what to buy – what whatever.

Besides,  I would ever think of touching someone’s drapes – could be a sniper outside just waiting for the perfect opportunity – you never know.

And Amy,  cajoling  me to taste her oysters-on-the-half-shell, when she knows I hate them.

Whenever  there’s raw clams, oysters, or other barnacles on the table, I’m always looking for a spittoon.

Why do people,  (or is it only my friends ?), insist on this behavior?

Sure, I’ll try  to stop someone from walking out in front of car, or driving drunk – but I would never think of opening their drapes – I decry haughtily.

Rob’s a nice guy,  except when it comes to my car.

I truly do  appreciate his mechanical advice – but it’s hearing him over and over, tell me that I bought the wrong car, the wrong style, the wrong color, that makes me what to back over him – gently, of course.

It’s a little  too late now pal-lie; I’m making payments on the one that doesn’t have 4-wheel drive; the retro-station-wagon-looking one; and I don’t care if gray shows the dirt – they all show the dirt when they’re dirty !

Lastly  –  and I love them all dearly – there’s Janie.

Her husband  was in real estate back in the ’70’s  & ’80’s and inevitably, whenever we get  together, she becomes the expert-by-ejaculation real estate agent; pestering me to sell or buy a house, a fixer-upper, duplex, and/or condo,  or the proud owner of one of those Around-a-Lake home-sites, third row back, second on left, after the canoe rental shop, in the middle of no-where’s-ville summer bungalows.

Once I accidentally spilled my water in her lap!

But the love  never stops – thanks goodness.