DEAR MISS MANNERS: My husband and I have built a new home to accommodate the special needs of our disabled adult daughter, who lives with us. The building project, and then the move itself, did not go smoothly at all! Murphy’s Law has been at play.

On the rainy day we finally moved in, several neighbors personally appeared over the course of the afternoon to bring tokens of welcome, including holiday goodies and even a plant. It was all very kind and very much appreciated.

Getting settled continues to be a huge struggle. Between caring for our daughter around the clock and unpacking while dealing with unexpected leaks and similar mishaps, I am an exhausted, nervous wreck. I have not even begun to unpack my desk, pens or stationery.

In these circumstances, am I expected to write thank-you notes for the welcome gifts? I’d really like to, but have no idea when I may have the time, energy or wherewithal to figure out the neighbors’ names and addresses, and find notecards and stamps, etc.

Is there a requirement or deadline for such things? I am truly very appreciative, but also a wreck.

GENTLE READER: And therefore you are fortunate to have such good neighbors, on whose kindness you may have occasion to depend.

Miss Manners often hears the argument that it is a cruel imposition to expect those in difficulty to express gratitude. What she finds callous is the notion that in this era of constant feedback, it is kindness, compassion and generosity that may be ignored.

Perhaps later you will be able to reciprocate, but Miss Manners begs you to take a few minutes now to assure them of your appreciation on whatever scrap of paper you can find. (It should not take longer than it took you to write this letter.) Addresses can easily be matched with names on the internet.

If you ignore them, well-meaning people may conclude that you wish to be left alone to cope with your problems.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I had a friend who was constantly calling me on my cellphone up to three times a day, and often when I was working. Her excessive calling began to make me feel anxious, so I asked her as graciously as I could to please not call me so much, that I was feeling “smothered.”

Now my friend does not call me at all. She does have a rigid personality and is perfectionistic. She never apologized to me, either, for how much she was calling me. I feel badly that we don’t talk now. Do you think this is something that will eventually blow over, or is our friendship ruined?

GENTLE READER: Why don’t you call her? You will find, from her response, how angry she is, but this will also establish that you did not mean to cut her off altogether.

And it will give you a chance to apologize. Yes, Miss Manners believes that it is you who needs to do so, for being so blunt, instead of merely saying you could not take her calls during work and other tasks.

Besides, there was no need to say anything at all, now that we have caller ID.

(Please send your questions to Miss Manners at her website, www.missmanners.com; to her email, dearmissmanners@gmail.com; or through postal mail to Miss Manners, Andrews McMeel Syndication, 1130 Walnut St., Kansas City, MO 64106.)

GENTLE READERS: Minding other people’s business, which has always been a major etiquette hazard, has taken on the noble mantle of ministering to public health. To the extent that people are out and about, there are also vigilantes who are vehemently scolding strangers, if not making citizens’ arrests.

The rationale is that etiquette is suspended in an emergency.

Well, yes and no. Miss Manners does not quibble with suspending the rule against shouting at strangers when the occasion arises to shout “Help!” But that is a request, however urgent, and not an insult.

In the opposite situation, when one seems to be in danger from others, tact is required -- for the sake of being effective, as well as respectful.

We all know the rules about staying home when sick, keeping our distance and washing our hands. They must be enforced.

But that does not give license to the sort of people who, under normal conditions, would be telling you that you are too fat or too thin, that you should get married or divorced, that you should change jobs or retire, and have or stop having children.

What they are doing now is summarily ordering people to go home, without knowledge of why they are out. Even strict quarantines recognize the need to buy food and medicine, to exercise and to tend to those in severe need.

And never mind that those disciplinarians are outside themselves, or they wouldn’t be within shouting distance.

We all also know that coughing can be lethal. But as any performer can tell you, there are plenty of coughs that don’t harm others, but may arise from asthma, acid reflux or allergies -- or from simply being in an audience. Targeting such people as public enemies is as unhelpful as it is mean. Yes, even at symphony concerts.

But what about those who actually are breaking the basic rules? Then it takes tact to be effective. Reforming strangers only works when it assumes mistaken goodwill (“I think we need more distance here -- that’s not 6 feet”) and allows them to comply without enduring public embarrassment. Even if they deserve to be ashamed of themselves.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I gave my cousin’s son a gift of a 1950s tackle box with many vintage fishing lures. I guess it was not much appreciated, because I never received a thank-you. What can I do about that?

GENTLE READER: Not throw good tackle after bad. Miss Manners believes that ignoring presents is a sign that they are unwelcome.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: We’ll soon be visiting a relative who moved into his home less than a year ago. My wife and I agree that a housewarming gift is appropriate, but agree on little else.

You see, I think one roll of toilet paper is adequate, but my wife feels that I am being cheap. She thinks we should give two rolls, which I think would be ostentatious. Would you please settle this argument? (We’re talking two-ply here.)

GENTLE READER: Tee-hee. But if Miss Manners declared a winner, you would only have to think of another way to amuse yourselves in confinement.

(Please send your questions to Miss Manners at her website, www.missmanners.com; to her email, dearmissmanners@gmail.com; or through postal mail to Miss Manners, Andrews McMeel Syndication, 1130 Walnut St., Kansas City, MO 64106.)

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I saw a wonderful show recently, but the first act was nearly ruined by a seating problem.

I settled into my seat at 7:25 with the help of an usher. During the overture, a mother and daughter arrived and sat in the two open seats on my right, about a third of the way down our row. After the show started, another mother and daughter arrived and made their way to the sole remaining seat on our row, on my left.

The woman to my right loudly hissed at me, “You’re in the wrong seat.” I ignored her. She then said, louder, “You’re in their seat.”

I replied, “My ticket is for seat 125. I’m in seat 125.” She asked what row, and I told her row E. On my left, the daughter sat in her mother’s lap for a few scenes, then they left our row for other seats close by (climbing over about a dozen people for a second time while the show was in progress).

Several people around us then started asking the woman on my right to be quiet, as did I. She replied very loudly, “Don’t tell me to be quiet.” Unfortunately, at that point, I did so again. I spent the rest of the first act dreading a confrontation at intermission.

When I have encountered seating problems like this on airplanes or in theaters, I start with the premise that I might be wrong, saying something neutral like, “It seems one of us may be in the wrong seat” or “Did they assign us both the same seat?” Rather than accusing the other person of being wrong, I leave open the possibility that I might be wrong, or that the venue has made a mistake. Being accused of being in the wrong seat, loudly and while the show was underway -- and by someone who had arrived late -- set me off.

When the lights came up at intermission, I told the woman on my right that my ticket was for E-125 and that seemed to be the seat I was sitting in. I asked her what seats her tickets were for. She summoned an usher, who happened to be the same usher who had seated me. The usher looked at my ticket and said that my seat was for the second balcony, and that I was sitting in the first balcony. I apologized to the woman on my right, and told her that this is where I had been seated by the usher. I got my things and left.

I wish that the usher or I had noticed that I was on the wrong level in the first place, or that the woman on my right and her friends had arrived before the show started. We could have sorted this out beforehand and not caused a disruption. But given the circumstances, how could I have handled this better?

GENTLE READER: By not taking Miss Manners on a journey of eight paragraphs before revealing that you were, in fact, wrong.

This does not mean that your fellow theatergoers were in the right. They should have been on time, less noisy and more polite, but those irritants made you impervious to the fact that you were holding them to a standard to which you did not hold yourself. Unfortunately, that cost you a full act, rather than a few minutes, of noisy behavior.

(Please send your questions to Miss Manners at her website, www.missmanners.com; to her email, dearmissmanners@gmail.com; or through postal mail to Miss Manners, Andrews McMeel Syndication, 1130 Walnut St., Kansas City, MO 64106.)