I Want My Space!

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Are you one of those lucky guys that have their own personal space at home? I’m not talking about a dark, dank corner of the basement where your tools reside, unless of course working with tools is your passion. I’m talking about a proverbial man cave. This is a place where others trespass at their own risk. Space where if one item is moved, you know it the minute you enter. This is space where you are the law and others dare not challenge your jurisdictional rights and rules.

One of the natural laws seems to be the longer you are on this planet the more things you accumulate and the more difficult it is to part with them. Based on my conversations with fellow bros of similar age, the typical offenders seem to be of the opposite gender. Like a rising tide that happens slowly, you fail to notice the space allocation in the bedroom closet goes from 50/50 to 90/10 in favor of the invading army led by General Patton, your wife. You hastily retreat to other corners of the house, like the unoccupied former bedrooms of your kids only to notice that Old Blood and Guts has already settled these outposts to protect the flanks.

It’s time for a counteroffensive! It will be ugly and bloody! You deserve your own space, which will serve as the basecamp for your journey through the second phase in life. One day you will rise from the ashes waiving your revolutionary flag and decreeing that this space, the space right here, is being claimed by you, numero uno! Things will be discovered, like 200 CD covers with no CD’s in them, multiple bags filled with pens adorned with corporate logos (so that’s where they went), books that haven’t been opened in decades, old iPods, and as sundry of electrical chords and thingamajigs that belong to things long ago discarded. Things will be placed at the end of the driveway available to all from packrat neighbors to Wednesday’s trash truck. I’ll even personally deliver to the crazy lady down the street who built a lighthouse in her front yard. No remorse or sentimentalism here.

The cannons have quieted and I now claim ownership to my little slice of territory. It may not seem much to some dudes but this is hollowed ground for me. It was a battle worth fighting although my wife is bruised, which means that this battle will not be soon forgotten. Who am I fooling; it will never be forgotten or forgiven. I’m OK with that. Now emboldened, I will be remobilizing and planning my next offensive. It’s great getting older; being relegated to the couch is not such a horrible thing. Stay thirsty my friends.

#mancave