For someone who's a control freak with a few other proclivities, there are a few things that make trips stressful.

First, just staying in someone else's home isn't really that fun. Even if they have a comfortable house, it's still not your home. At least with a hotel, you have your own place that you're paying for. And when your room contains a full-size bed which needs to house one normal person, one large gorilla, and a medium-sized dog, it's hard to get a good night's sleep. But that's okay, because your snoring, which sounds like fourteen thousand rusty industrial saws cutting down fourteen thousand chain link fences, manages to keep everyone else up. Even if everyone has earplugs in. Until, of course, you get banished to the loft on the other side of the house where you get to sleep on an air mattress in a huge empty room with lots of little crawlspace doors and you keep dreaming that there are evil trolls behind those doors who are going to quietly open them up and stab you to death while you sleep.

Secondly, you're at the mercy of the owner's technological failings. For example, a large house that only has DSL in one room without any wireless possibilities presents serious obstacles to someone like myself who likes to stay online all day long. This issue is easily resolved by purchasing a Wireless Router for $80 and setting it up for free for the owners. Even if you don't really tell them that you're doing it. And even if their Mac stops working as a result and you have to work on it for a while just to get them back to the caveman-way of life to which they are accustomed.

Finally, as someone who refuses to use public bathrooms at all, I dread using one in someone else's home. It's almost as bad, but I'm able to handle it. I know, I'm quite the adventurous soul.

But you know what makes it all that much worse?

Liquid fire pouring from your ass every hour.

Am I home yet?