not an empty nest in sight
My baby boy just turned nineteen. It’s sad. Time disappeared so quickly. One day he was a cuddly little blond baby boy and the next day he’s a six-foot-four college sophomore still sleeping on my sofa.
He had a dorm room the first semester of his freshman year but wouldn’t stay there. I couldn’t understand why he wanted a dorm room considering we live on the same street as the college he attends. But it’s all part of the college experience. A part he didn’t really experience. So I refused to pay for a dorm room this year.
Don’t ask me why he isn’t sleeping in his own room. Maybe it’s because his TV is still in the garage. Maybe it’s because he can’t get into his room because of all the stuff piled inside his door. I’m not cleaning it.
Personally I don’t mind if he stays at home forever, but he does have a perfectly good room and a perfectly good bed so I’d like to at least move him back into it and get him off my couch.
I have five adults, three dogs, one ferret and one baby living in my house. Most of the time it’s okay. There’s not enough room to walk through the living room, much less sleep in there.
I’m thinking of redecorating. Maybe some really uncomfortable straight back chairs and fragile little love seats. Something pink, lacy and ruffled that a really big guy wouldn’t be caught sleeping on.
It could work.
