The horns of a rampaging dilemma

My home, a sty

I returned home from work and this was the first time I saw my house in such a state, I mustered the depths of calm and patience to take in the sight.

I have a guest, a friend of about 15 years who had since returned to Africa from Europe and is one whose peers hold in quite high regard, he is invited to present a paper in Brussels.

My bathroom sink had underwear which first looked misplaced till it was apparent that it had some excrement in it - wrapped it in a bag and binned it - my toilet was in such a state with brown stuff all over the place, walls, sink, floor and toilet bowl, I must have walked into a horror movie.

I have a cleaner, but this could not wait, I was down to the shops, got every cleaning disinfectant on the shelves and was on all fours scrubbing and rubbing - very annoying - my guest just ignored the whole thing - at least since yesterday he has been quite unwell - I have been told.

Oh my, what happened?

Then my kitchen, a casserole I had made the night before was exposed; the serving spoon on the floor, some of the stuff strewn over the table and floor, and surely, this is not on.

The kitchen sink and table tops red stained, probably with wine, when I noticed that in the space of 9 hours when I was at work, a bottle of port, one of sherry, a magnum of champagne had been consumed - makes me wonder, is that enough to make it seem my home has been hit by a cyclone?

Now, whilst I like fine wines, my consumption of alcohol is minuscule, even if I had to take a wine-pairing multiple course dinner, my consumption would not come to more than two glasses of wine and is quite enough.

It is a matter of principle and considered safety that I never drink alone, I have a well-stocked cellar but only for when occasion presents itself.

Now, for two nights since my friend returned from Brussels, he has ensconced himself in the bedroom without any useful interaction.

Familiarity has begotten contempt

There is no doubt that the friendship is being treated with utter contempt, I can handle that, however, I do wonder if I should express my disappointment, check him into a hotel for his last night or endure what is just a wallowing sow for another 36 hours?

Really, I have never been met with such a trying situation before and I do wonder if my friend does need to seek help for a seeming drink problem which might be contributing to the unfamiliar and unwarranted abuse of my hospitality - I am of the good mind of making all the wine bottles in my wine cupboard disappear before the sun is up.

Much more has happened, but those I can handle, this, well, I either need more patience or a rage of absolutely righteous indignation.

We can agree that no such invitation would ever be extended to my friend again, that is if this episode would survive our long acquaintance.

I am caught on the horns of a rampaging dilemma.