Minnie the Moocher.

Hun and I have this policy with our friends - come over any time. If the door is unlocked and we know you're coming, just walk in. If we don't know you're coming, give a knock or something so we don't crap ourselves. And if the door is locked, give us a sec to put some clothes on. ;) Most friends don't take advantage of the extensiveness of this policy. They make plans with us for next week, next month, or a special occasion. They call to confirm. But not Minnie.

If we're lucky, Minnie will usually give us about 20 minutes notice. Since she gets off work before I do, if she wants to come over, she's usually there before I am, playing cards or grading.

She used to invite herself over for dinner until I finally told her that, yes, she's welcome to come over, but if you expect me to prepare for you, you need to give me some advance warning. Like, before I buy groceries for the week. A few days later, I come home from work, and she suggests a plan wherein we feed her every Tuesday after she gets out of Mass, and she feeds us every Thursday when we're watching Project Runway at her apartment. Okay - at least that's a plan.

Last week, she fell asleep, and I ended up cooking on Thursday night, too. When she came over yesterday (skipping Mass), I got annoyed with her and was very rude, which I regret.

I understand some of where this hyperattachment to us comes from, or at least I think I do. She's just started living on her own in the past few months, and she lives alone. Most of her day is spent working or sleeping, and she needs someone she can hang out with. I get that part. And I do like hanging out with Minnie, but she's a very forceful personality, and she's never content to just sit and read a book. When she comes over, I end up feeling steamrolled by the time she leaves.

I also end up feeling like she needs us to take care of her, which can be rather draining. I'm concerned at how much money she spends -- for example, she makes twice as much as I do, but she's repeatedly told us in the past week that she's worried about making it to her next paycheck. I'm concerned about her health, because I've seen her pantry. Et cetera.

I don't know exactly what I want from this situation, though. On the one hand, Minnie is my friend, and I honestly do like spending time with her. But I really need some space -- or perhaps the better word would be maturity -- in our relationship. I'd like to pass an evening when neither one of us tries to sit on the other, tickle the other, or anything like that. I'd like an adult meal, with adult conversation, that ends at a respectable hour.