Thinking this, you open the door to them. Welcome them with open arms and smile at their less-than-familiar faces respectfully.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
They say they’re sorry for being a trouble, but are already lounging on your couch and asking for a cup of tea. They compliment your house and are on their feet, snooping around. They’ve found the guest room without your help and are already feeling at home.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
You decide to suck it up. It’s their season. They’ll be gone soon.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
The first few days are bearable. You can keep up with their requests. They’re (somewhat) respectful of your boundaries.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
Days turn into weeks. You’re starting to get peeved by seeing them around your house daily. Their requests are changing into demands. They’ve extended their stay by long enough. They’re not limited to the guest room anymore. They’ve changed your entire house to a guest house.<\/p>\r\n\r\n
<\/p>\r\n\r\n
Weeks turn into months. You’re working late to avoid going back home to them. They’re driving you insane with the constant buzzing noises and claiming food items before you do. There’s not a place in your own house that’s safe from them. You’re sick of them.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
It doesn’t stop there.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
One day you return home, ready to kick them out. Enough is enough. But to your shock, they’ve invited more guests inside your house. They’re all sitting in the balcony, buzzing and laughing. They look at you and wave, inviting you over, in your own house.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
You grab the electric bat finally. You nod at them, accepting their invitation. And then you charge at them.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n