In which Primo is stressed out about my friends maybe coming to our house on short notice

Me: Oh! Guess what! Sandrine is in town!

Primo: Who's that?

Me: Remember? She was in the Peace Corps with me. Her mom and dad live here. She and her husband and the kids are here for a few days. She wants to know if we want to go out to dinner.

Primo: Tonight?

Me: Yes. They are leaving tomorrow. She wrote that she is mortified that she didn't get in touch earlier.

Primo: I guess.

Me: They could come over here for a drink [remember the 300 bottles of wine in the basement?] and then we could go out.

Primo: Here? To OUR HOUSE?

Me: Yes. Here. To our house.

Primo: But I am in the middle of working on the computer and it's on the coffee table. And there is stuff on the table that we are taking on our trip next week.

Me: I don't care. I will just tell her that we are getting ready to go on a trip. The bathroom is clean. The living room is clean. Our house is not a museum. I don't mind if people come over.

Primo: It's always your friends who come here.

Me: Yep. Your friends never ask if we want to go out to dinner. Your friends invite us only to events where they want money.

Primo: Well.

Me: The only friends of your who ever invite us to do anything are your political friends and there is nothing they do where they have not asked for a donation.

Primo: I guess.

Me: At least my friends like us just for our company. They don't want money from us.