My house, my rules. Even the bizarre rules need to be followed. Houseguests share the odd rule they discovered someone had when they visited them. Content has been edited for clarity.
Every Last Drop
“I was around eight when I went to a friend’s place for a playdate and asked for a cup of water. The friend’s mum pulled out one of the biggest glasses eight-year-old me had seen and filled it to the brim. I was only used to the small plastic cups at this stage so I was not used to such a large amount of water. After drinking just over one-fourth of the glass, I went to go pour it out because I didn’t want the rest. I was full.
My friend stopped me and said we weren’t allowed to pour out the water. We had to drink it. Eight-year-old me thought it was weird. But looking back sure, it was a good way to teach kids not to waste water. Especially here in Australia where droughts are so common. So if I wasn’t allowed to pour it out, what could I do with it? I thought I would just leave it for later. My friend once again stopped me and explained I wasn’t allowed to leave it. I had to drink it all. I said I wasn’t thirsty anymore when her mum walked in and told me water wasn’t allowed to be wasted in this house and I better drink it all. Like right then and there.
If you wanted water, you weren’t allowed to leave it and come back later. You had to sit there and finish it. Eight-year-old me had tried to argue why I couldn’t leave it for later and the mum got angry. She had me sit at the kitchen bench stool and finish this massive glass. I sat there grumpily for ages trying to finish this thing so I could go back to playing. I remember getting really uncomfortable because I needed to pee, and sure enough immediately afterward I was dashing to the toilet.
I understood teaching kids not to just wastewater. But let them leave it to come back later, the water wouldn’t spoil and they would drink it later.”
Nighttime Rules
“Everyone mentioned rules at their childhood friend’s house, but this one was my grown-up friend.
We couldn’t drink ‘refreshments’ until the kids were in bed. Ok, I sort of understood that, except for the reasoning. The adults in the house, usually my friend, her husband, and I were ‘in charge’ of making sure the kids were looked after and were safe. So, no drinks were allowed while they were awake. Not even a sip of spirits with dinner. Three of their four kids had special needs, so just in case someone needed to go to the hospital or something, there were sober adults who could take them as well as supervise the others. Until after the kids had gone to bed. Once they were asleep, then the adults could get absolutely hammered. Presumably, because no incidents will occur after they go to bed? Like there was zero chance of a kid suddenly going downhill or whatever and needing medical attention. Add to the fact that one of the kids was a literal insomniac. He had gone for 48 plus hours without sleep many times, due to his medical conditions and the medications he was prescribed to deal with said conditions. The younger two would get out of bed whenever they pleased, to join the adults. There had been many times when it was after midnight and we were enjoying drinks and cards against humanity, and the littlest kid would wake up and get out of bed.
The parents just shrugged and said, ‘Oh she’s up now. She can stay out here with us because she will wake the others if we put her back. She doesn’t want to miss any of the fun.’
And they continued to drink.
I didn’t understand it. But I also didn’t understand the bit where if the husband was away and I was visiting, my friend had to ring him to let him know the kids were asleep and ask if it was ok if she had a drink with me while he was away. She had to get permission from him because of the whole ‘someone needed to be sober to supervise’ rule, even though when he’s home, they could both get smashed with no problem. I also didn’t understand why she was married to a controlling person in the first place. That was a whole different story.”
Etiquette First
“This wasn’t at a friend’s house per se. Rather it was at my sorority house in college. Our house mom liked to tipple and was most often slightly buzzed. She was a hoot and usually pretty chill. But she enforced the strangest ‘etiquette’ rule at dinners.
We had three long tables in our dining room, with chairs around each. Sometimes it was ‘family style,’ sometimes traditional dinner service. Either way, if you needed something, mashed potatoes, salt, gravy, salad, anything, there were specific rules for passing them.
You never said, ‘Suzy, would you please pass the pepper?’
Oh no. First of all, you didn’t ask that.
Rather you were to say, ‘Suzy, would you like the pepper?’
To which she was to reply, ‘No thank you. But would you?’
Then I would respond with, ‘Yes please.’
I know. Ridiculous, unnecessary, and, annoying. But it got better.
You never passed the salt by itself. Salt and pepper always traveled together. I must admit, to this day, I still do this. But in ‘her house,’ everything was always passed counterclockwise, to the right. So if you wanted the salt, and it was in front of the person directly next to you on your right.
I would say, ‘Betty, would you like the Brussel sprouts?’
She then would reply, ‘No thank you. But would you?’
I could then say, ‘Yes please.’
Then she had to pass them to the person on her right, who passed it, and so on. You were to accept whatever from the person on the whole way around the table.”
Reverse Psychology
“A distant relative was ultra-houseproud, and I was not allowed to enter the house through the front door. I didn’t know this at the time. I drove up and parked in the driveway. My relative immediately opened the garage door and motioned for me to come in through the garage. For your information, I had just come from work as a professional at the office. I had arrived in a clean fairly late model Mercedes, and I was wearing a freshly pressed suit and tie, and shiny black shoes. At the time, I was about 40, and my relative who was a female would have been about 35.
Fine, their house, their rules.
So, I followed her into the house through the laundry room and into their ultra-clean, but fairly kitschy, country-style kitchen. Being British, the first topic of conversation was tea, and I offered to put the kettle on. I picked up the beige-and-covered-in-roses electric kettle, popped off the lid, and walked over to the sink.
‘Stop!’, she yelled at me, ‘That’s the display kettle!’.
It turned out the kettle-for-use was in the laundry room. Where, on closer inspection, there was also a fridge, an oven, a microwave, and a hob. The laundry room was in fact the kitchen. She never used the kitchen for any actual cooking. And of course, the mugs we drank the tea from weren’t the kitschy cottagey ones in the ‘kitchen,’ but somewhat cheaper ones from the laundry room. Which was great, because they were actually a reasonable size. I was offered rich tea biscuits.
I had to sit on a wooden chair at the kitchen table because the sofa still had the plastic covering on it.
We had a pleasant enough chat, and a little later there was a knock at the front door. There was a tradesman standing outside, wearing scruffy overalls and work boots and carrying a toolbag. I was sitting by a window and he could see me, so I motioned to the guy to walk round to the garage.
Oh, no. He was allowed in through the front door. It was Dave the plumber, apparently, who had come to fix an upstairs tap.
At that point, I made my excuses and left. Although I was pretty sure, at the very least, his interaction with the lady of the house included a nice cup of tea made entirely using the ‘Country Cottage’ kettle, jug, and china teacup and saucer combo. And probably hobnobs from the matching biscuit jar, rather than the rich tea I was palmed off with.”
Like A Lady
“This was not my house rule, but it was one of my friend’s rules. Which I too adopted for a time as well.
My friend Gabe moved out of his parent’s home quite young, whilst still in high school. He got himself a little one-bedroom apartment where he lived on his own. Gabe was of course now responsible for all the cleaning of his humble abode and he was a man of ordered and tidy sensibilities. What he came to discover fairly soon after his foray into independence was that standing and peeing into a toilet regardless of how careful one was, it would always result in a bit of splash back. If one was not careful it was an obvious mess. Gabe decided he was not one bit keen on having urine, even small amounts, splashed around his bathroom. And he did not wish to scrub his bathroom all the time to clean these stray droplets or streams up.
Gabe started sitting whilst he peed and discovered this to be an effective mitigation strategy. As he was the only one of his friends who lived on his own his buddies were often at his place hanging out. As much as he didn’t want to clean his own pee up, he was downright disgusted by the prospect of cleaning up his friends’ urine. He made a rule, which he both verbally informed his guests of, and went so far as to put a sign up in his bathroom, stating all guests were to sit whilst using the toilet. Fair enough.
A few of his friends scoffed at this rule and stood while urinating. These fellows who ignored his house rule were also a bit or a lot hammered at the time and made a very obvious mess of Gabe’s bathroom. He had given them cleaning products and made them clean up after themselves immediately. He then unceremoniously told them to leave and they were never to come back to his apartment. Gabe completely stuck to his word. News got around quickly about how everyone needed to be seated during their time on or around his toilet or they would suffer the consequences. His rule was without fail adhered to.
A few of his male buddies complained a bit about how it was unmanly to pee whilst seated.
Gabe was quick to reply, ‘If your sense of manliness is so fragile that sitting on a toilet threatens it you must be very insecure in your masculinity.’
That would end the complaining right there with the complainer usually walking away quite red in the face.”
Hesitant Steps
“These stories were all about the same friend and her parents. I don’t know why it took me as long as it did to stop playing with her but I was a kid.
Anytime I had a glass of water or used the bathroom, I had to do a chore. I either had to walk their dog, sweep the kitchen floor, water plants, or whatever. Her mother would stand and make sure I did it correctly too. If I was at her house and they were making dinner, I was never ever allowed to eat. Her mother accused me of ‘timing it so I would be there to eat.’ I was eight.
They bought a camper one summer, a ratty little outdated camper. Anytime we got within five feet of the camper, her dad would hang out the front door red-faced screaming for us to get away from it. It was difficult since it was in their driveway and we were in their front yard. I was only allowed in two rooms of their house; my friend’s bedroom and the living room. If I was found in any other room, I was told to leave and I wasn’t allowed back at their house for a while.
I was a very anxious child. I didn’t tell my mom any of this because I was afraid of her mom. She would yell and make my friend cry and I didn’t want any part of that. When her mother berated me for reaching back into their house to grab something I left by the door, I finally told my mom. I never hung out with her again after that.”
One Level Only
“No pooping in our main floor restroom.
This was a horribly embarrassing rule to explain. Alas, there appeared to be just enough missing slope between the drain and the pipe to our septic tank, where a day or two after a guest flushed, the drains began to gurgle and were followed by sewage overflowing into the basement.
If we had a guest who we forget to warn and they lingered too long in the powder room, the whole family sprung into action. One child filled the upstairs bathtub. Another put stockpots of water on to boil. I opened the clean-out valve in the basement, while my husband opened the one outside. We guided a 20-foot snake into the stack. I sealed up my side while my husband furiously snaked the drain. The pots of boiling water were poured down the toilet. If there was a visible flow, we proceeded to a power flush. It would be all three toilets at once. If we were still clear, we did a second power flush coinciding with the tub drain. The clean-out valve got sealed again, and we bleached our rubber gloves and snake. Then we collapsed and waited for the poop smell to diminish.
Three plumbers had not found a reason. It was just a part of life now.”
For My Sanity
“I was on the phone with a friend and he sneezed.
Any normal person would say, ‘Bless you.’
Instead, I said, ‘Be more.’
I can’t explain how scared I got because usually, I tried not to have such slip-ups in front of friends.
He, of course, was confused. Simply put, in my household, we didn’t say bless you, and instead said be more.
Another thing is no spiritual talk. Why? Because no one in my house was spiritual. And when all your house guests were primarily African American spirituals, it kept things calm and kept Mom from popping off. Also for some reason, it was surprising to be in a non-spiritual African American household.
No negative talk, my parents were huge believers in ‘your words have power’. Basically, if you say some negative stuff it was going to happen. Do it anywhere but near our house.”
Restricted
“No plastic grocery bags were allowed.
You know, the cheap ones from the grocery store that can only hold three items before they are full? Those ones especially.
I would like to say it was because I was so ecologically minded. But sadly I forgot to bring my canvas bags to the store too often for me to say that.
It was because my cat could hear the sound of the bag, or smell it. But who knows? From the moment you enter the door, he could sense it. You set the groceries on the cabinet to put away, then you turned your back to open the refrigerator or used the bathroom, whatever.
While you were blinking, the cat was on the kitchen counters, chewing on the bags. He would very quickly chew the handles apart.
This was bad enough. But sometimes, he actually tried to eat the plastic. I had pulled it out of his mouth more than once.
I was not interested in a bowel blockage which is either extensive, expensive surgery, or the death of my beloved pet.
So, no plastic grocery bags, please.”
Tight Ship
“I liked to keep my home more private. It didn’t mean I didn’t have people over, but it did mean a few areas of my house were off limits.
If we had guests staying over it would be why we had guest bedrooms. Their bedrooms were on the second floor. But on the other side of the house and not near my kids’ bedrooms and upstairs playroom and living room. I would encourage guests to stay in their rooms and not wander over to the area my kids often were in unless the kids wanted them there.
Second, my kids are homeschooled. I couldn’t explain this well enough, apparently. Just because my partner and I were not directly helping them, it did not mean they were not busy. If it was during the day between eight-thirty am and three-fifteen pm, they were most often doing school. They liked to be left alone, so lit was best to let me or my partner see if they wanted to say hello to any guests. Don’t disrupt them.
Third, no snooping around. It’s a very big house, with many rooms. That didn’t mean every room needed to be thoroughly inspected. I liked to keep my bedroom, office, and my kids’ rooms off limits unless invited in.
We had security alarms, cameras, and codes. Yes, we had security cameras. I was the one who watched them be installed. I knew they were there. I had them to protect myself and my loved ones. There was no need to point them out.
Adding on to the last one, we had two monitors in my house that ran live security footage. Some may say it was overkill but I don’t think so. On top of that, it was nice to see what my kids were doing if they were outside.
Lastly, no making messes. If you made a mess, once you left, my fiancé would quietly curse your name while we cleaned up your mess. There was a reason why we vacuumed and mopped almost daily. We liked our house clean. Our white marble floors looked pretty terrible with mud all over them, and the white couches didn’t need to be turned different colors because you couldn’t walk to the kitchen to grab a napkin.
Typically people didn’t have problems with these.”
No Shirt, No Service
“Living in New York City, there were always people who wanted to stay over because of the hotel rates here. Which was fine as long as they understood I was not running a hotel.
For example, our cupboard space was rare in New York apartments. If I gave you water in a mug, please just accept it. I probably had very few water glasses and they were all in the sink.
The same went for towels. I didn’t use face towels. I didn’t have any. Please don’t explain to me why you needed one after I handed you a clean bath towel. If you needed a face towel every night, you should have brought your own.
I worked. Please just accept toast and an egg in the morning. No, I couldn’t cook a hot breakfast for you every day of your stay. Yes, I realize I was Asian, but I didn’t always have rice ready to eat when you so desired. And if I said I didn’t have any other Asian ingredient, please don’t explain to me what the ingredient was. If this line of requests got any more annoying, I would not cook the usual hot breakfast on weekend mornings that I usually offered to guests.
If you required 100 percent fresh coffee, I could provide directions to the nearest Starbucks. Or you could make your own. Your other option was to accept the coffee I made half an hour ago.
My internet connection was not the greatest. Again, I would provide directions to the nearest Starbucks, but please don’t complain every single day as a middle-aged adult.
I cleaned the whole apartment before any guests arrived. If you took it upon yourself to clean parts of the house you deemed unacceptable, that was on you. However, please do not point out to me you cleaned the bathroom every single day you visit.
Again I worked. If you chose to arrive earlier than six, I couldn’t drop my job to meet you somewhere. Either you could come to my office and I would give you my house keys and directions to the apartment or you could entertain yourself for the day until it was six. And never say my job wasn’t that important and therefore I should just meet you to take you to the apartment.
Do not walk around my apartment half-dressed. I couldn’t even believe this had to be said. I could understand if you were going the ten steps from the bathroom to the bedroom, although even then. Didn’t people own robes anymore? But do not walk around my living room without a shirt on.”
Very Particular
“I had two rules. I don’t know about ‘weird’, but in my house, my rules were first, don’t tell me what to do in my house. I had regular guests, mainly members of my family, who used to regularly complain about how my house smelled of smoking, and I should smoke outside. I was an adult and a mature woman. I lived alone. Had I cared, I would have smoked outside. But I didn’t care. I never smoked where smoking was prohibited, but I did smoke in my house because I permitted that.
So at one point, I had to say, ‘When you come, get on with it or don’t come, it’s as simple as that.’
The second rule was don’t touch my books. Every couple of months when I would clean my library I noticed some books were missing. I had many books, but I knew what books I had. It annoyed me how people didn’t return my books, it really did.
So at one point, I began saying, ‘You can look but don’t touch.”’
