Why do I treat a neighbor's visit like an event to prepare for?

A neighbor once told Nasreddin he'd stop by for tea. Nasreddin swept the yard, borrowed his cousin's good rug, sent his son running for sugar, and put on his one good coat. The neighbor arrived, sat cross-legged on the bare floor anyway, and drank his tea from the cracked cup Nasreddin forgot to hide. He never once looked at the rug. This is the whole trouble with 'casual.' Someone offers you something light — a coffee, a drop-in, a quick lunch — and you quietly hand it a weight it never asked to carry. You imagine an audience checking your house, your outfit, your conversation. But the neighbor came for the tea and for you. The rug was a performance for nobody. The formality isn't in the invitation. It's a story you tell yourself about being watched. Once you see that, the question changes from 'how do I prepare enough' to 'who exactly am I preparing for.'