With summer about half over, it’s time to consider the houseguest problem. Drawn by the promise of lazy days at the beach and endless lobster feeds, they start coming before the black flies leave. We love these fair-weather friends, but our short season gets frantic and chaotic, especially with other people always in the house. A sense of dread can come down like a thundercloud when a caller says, “We can only stay a week” or “Is it all right if we bring the dogs?”

It was so easy in the cold months to tell good friends and relatives to come see us next summer, maybe on a Christmas card or, worse, when we are visiting them and accepting their hospitality. It is fun at first seeing them here and showing off our lakes, mountains and seacoast. And it’s fun having lunches and dinners with them and perhaps – on foggy summer afternoons – playing cribbage or Scrabble.

But then there’s breakfast, with the guests straggling in so that the meal seems to last all morning. Or the lobster feed that requires buying a fisherman’s entire daily haul. And the sheets that barely have time to dry before beds are made for the next set of guests.

Rich people with big houses have been solving that problem by buying up modest natives’ houses and fixing them up as a place to put their houseguests.

For the rest of us, here’s a solution: a nearby bed-and-breakfast. The message would be that we would love to see you and spend a lot of time together and have dinner as a group. But then we could all have a quiet night and a more solitary breakfast with a relaxing second cup of coffee and time to read the morning paper before the next day’s activities begin.

This method will save at least as many friendships as it risks. Visitors are apt to understand and accept it, especially if they have experienced the houseguest problem themselves.

Just don’t mention that it’s awfully nice here in the fall, too.