Would you have to be crazy to snarl at your spouse, child or parents?

Miss Manners would say so, with the understanding that she is using "crazy" in the household sense of "What -- are you crazy?"

There those people are, not just knowing where you live but possessing their own keys. Would a person in possession of his or her faculties antagonize someone who is constantly lurking around the house?

Inevitably. What are families for, if not to drive one another crazy? You declare your undying love for people, share your life with them, and look what they do:

Monopolize the bathroom. Leave the gas tank empty. Mess up their computers by once again doing exactly what you told them not to do, and then expecting you to drop what you're doing and fix it.

So, naturally, there are words. A key question is how many words, how often they are spoken, and, for Miss Manners, which words they are.

Another profession, one with a less benign definition of crazy, is interested in this matter. The American Psychiatric Association is considering classifying abrasive family relationships as symptoms of mental illness in otherwise presumably healthy individuals. The explanation offered is that constant battling between couples or parents and children could constitute "relational disorders" of a pathological nature.

Its focus is, of course, on behavior of an entirely different order of magnitude than the common bits of friction Miss Manners has just delineated. Domestic discord ranges from mere squabbling to sustained hostilities to criminal acts, and she recognizes that etiquette's jurisdiction is over only the mildest sort, while the justice system must deal with domestic violence.

Psychiatry has long treated the middle range, and Miss Manners would not dream of interfering in its present, ah, family squabbles over how this should be regarded. Her modest desire is only to offer the principles and lessons to be gleaned from her end of the domestic continuum.

In the etiquette business, we use neither medical nor legal terms. Rather than sickness and health, legal or illegal, we think of the alternatives of human behavior as being natural and bearable. Our aim is to twist what is natural into something bearable.

We notice that those who arrive in a family with no previous behavioral record of any kind, receiving huge welcomes by other residents who put themselves out to meet the demands of the newcomer, behave the worst. To a person, they scream and cry at the least inconvenience they encounter, and sometimes when all their conditions are met but they happen to feel fussy anyway.

Yet we are also aware that these people cannot survive alone and that even when they reach the point when they may be able to do so, few choose to live in isolation. They must therefore learn to make themselves tolerable to their housemates and to the larger communities in which they dwell, hence the practical justification for etiquette.

This is why etiquette has never gone in for the volatile methods of dealing with domestic conflict that have been popularly adapted from the other disciplines. It cares less about legislating contributions and privileges to achieve parity than it does about whether people can be accommodated reasonably. And rather than encourage honest communication of everyone's feelings, it recommends suppressing expression of the nasty ones and knowing when to substitute kindness for openness.

Those who ignore the dictates of domestic etiquette will have ample opportunity to try the full range of legal and psychiatric solutions, as home life is bound to get worse.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I was invited to dinner via phone, two weeks before the date, and accepted. Four days before the dinner, I was called and uninvited because the table seats only eight. I felt very hurt by this, and I wonder how I should respond to another dinner at their home.

GENTLE READER: Politely, of course. Miss Manners suggests, "How kind of you to invite me again after all the trouble I must have caused you last time. However, I'm afraid that, once again, I will be unable to attend."

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: I teach high school drama and English. This past summer, I received wedding invitations from four of my former students. I responded that I would not be attending the weddings.

Quite frankly, I teach hundreds of students each year, and I receive multiple graduation, wedding and other types of invitations. While each student is special to me, my public school teacher salary is not generous enough to allow me the financial ability to send gifts to each occasion. Other than teaching them in a professional setting or working on a drama production, I have no other contact with the students.

When I returned for the fall semester, several parents of the former students each approached me separately and informed me how disappointed the former student was that I could not attend the wedding. The parent(s) further explained that they did not invite that many people to the wedding -- that I was considered "special" because I was invited (as opposed to other teachers), and therefore my presence was greatly missed.

I felt guilty after each conversation for not attending the wedding(s). I apologized profusely, explaining that my summer was very busy. However, I was too embarrassed to explain that I had been invited to several former students' weddings, but attended none of them, because I did not want to show up to the wedding empty-handed (carrying no gift).

What should I do at this point? Should I now purchase gifts for those students' whose weddings that I did not attend? What should I do in the future? I imagine that I am not the only school teacher who faces this problem every time graduation season arrives.

GENTLE READER: Could Miss Manners induce you to take just a minute out from feeling guilty and overwhelmed to feel flattered?

Your former students want you at the important occasions in their lives because you made a difference in their lives. Through sheer force of your teaching, you made a lasting impression on them.

Isn't that why you went into teaching?

This is not to say that you have to attend their functions. Unless the parents are unusually rude, they were only saying you were missed because they want you to know how much you mean to their children, and they share their illusion that you were as focused on each student individually as they all were on you.

All you need to do is to express your regret at not being able to attend, and deflect inquiry by expressing your good wishes. You should certainly not insult them by insinuating that you would not have been welcome unless you brought a present.

However, if you wish to attend, that matter of being "empty-handed" should not stop you. Presents are properly sent, not delivered (no matter how many of your students are ignorant of this rule), and the best one from you would be a letter of praise at their achievements, if you can manage it, and perhaps an inscribed book (paper or second-hand will do) which, as it would be carrying a favorite teacher's recommendation, should be as precious as any silver or electronics they may receive.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: My boyfriend and I have a disagreement about whether it's proper when we finish eating at a restaurant for him to stack up the dishes. I have told him it's the waitress' responsibility. Who's right?

GENTLE READER: Neither of you. It is the waitress's job to clear the table properly, and a good one would be just as horrified as Miss Manners at dishes being stacked.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: In our increasingly high-tech world, it's become easier than ever to keep up with the events in the lives of people one has known, even if one has fallen out of touch with the actual person. I hope you can help me understand what the rules of etiquette are in these situations.

Specifically, I'm referring to the practice of "Googling" others; that is, typing someone's name into an Internet search engine and seeing what entries result from the search.

Recently, I came across information that a high school classmate and friend, whom I haven't spoken with in years, recently lost his wife, whom I did not know. This information prompted a flurry of searches, and I discovered that another classmate has also passed away, and a third has been jailed for repeated alcohol-impaired driving offenses.

How does one (indeed, should one) admit to having this information, without causing undue distress?

I would like to contact my old friend whose wife died to express my sympathy, but I simply don't know how to initiate the contact. It seems one thing to say, "I was talking with Christine, who told me about your wife. I'm so sorry for your loss," while it's quite another to admit that I came by the information through a practice that's not far removed from stalking. What would Miss Manners do?

GENTLE READER: What she is doing at the moment is wondering whether this matter will always be considered delicate, or is, even now, other than by you and Miss Manners.

It is true that, as a people, we are fiercely protective of our privacy. But that is only to make others stop bothering us while the population is busy posting everything it does, thinks or feels, accompanied by pictures, on its personal Web sites.

Perhaps not in the situations you mention, however. Presumably, people do not post their own arrests, deaths and bereavements. Yet these are matters of public record, and there are many ways you could have found out about them.

How you actually did is not that important. You need only begin your letter to your friend who lost his wife -- and the survivor of your other classmate, should you be prompted to send condolences -- with "I was so sorry to learn of your loss."

As for your other unfortunate classmate, Miss Manners suggests checking his Web site and your school's self-submitted alumni notes, and offering sympathy only if it appears to be solicited by his telling his version of what happened.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I received an invitation to a party whose purpose was to meet a candidate for a soon-to-be-elected office. It was given by the candidate, a person I do not know and will not be supporting.

At the bottom of the "party" invitation, it said "Regrets only." Although I did not plan to go, I did not reply. I did not feel I could have a comfortable telephone conversation with this person I do not know and will not support. Was this impolite?

GENTLE READER: The social rules that pertain to offers of hospitality from friends do not apply to offers from strangers attempting to extract an advantage for themselves. Had you telephoned, Miss Manners feels sure that you would have encountered -- depending on the size of the office -- either a staff member mechanically recording replies or a desperately pleading candidate. You may consider that you saved them trouble.

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