Our favorite houseguests, a family of four who live in upstate New York, are visiting. They moved away from Prospect Heights four-and-a half years ago and whenever they come to visit they stay with us.

Fun as it is to have them, there just isn’t enough room in our apartment to comfortably sleep them. They used to stay in the living room but we recently put up a partial wall in there so Hepcat can have an office. That means: a smaller living room.

Great solution: Remember those guinea pigs we’re taking care of. Their owner said we should just stay at her house. So last night, Hepcat and I went out for dinner with our friends and then walked over to our little brownstone away from home.

What a treat. Guinea pig friend has a  jacuzzi in her bedroom and I made a b-line for it when we got to the house last night.

There’s something about being in a place that is not home, a place where the clutter has nothing to do with you, that is so relaxing. It’s so easy to ignore.

Woke up this morning in someone else’s life. Washed my face at a lovely Kohler sink that is like a ceramic bowl. Sat in the quiet living room that overlooks the garden.

By 8:30 a.m., I felt compelled to return home. Stopped at Cousin John’s for croissants, danish and turnover. Everyone was up: the honored house guests were getting ready to take a walk in the old neighborhood. They like to take their kids to see where they lived when they were younger. My friend was bracing herself for seeing the construction site where the Richard Meier is going to be.

Lots of changes in the last four years in their old neighborhood. They don’t miss Brooklyn much: their new surroundings are quite spacious and pleasant. They certainly don’t miss nthe  noise, the fast speed of life, the garbage. But they do miss the people.