I let is it slide all summer, but fall is in the air and I am ready to hibernate.
My 20-year-old son moved home in the spring and immediately took over the basement which was once my domain. The one place the girls who dominate my home did not tread. It was free of The Bachelor, American Idol, Dancing with the Stars and What Not to Wear.
My basement was a haven for all things manly — sports, action movies, farts, chips and salsa, Wii golf and my beloved beer fridge.
However, when the boy moved back it became home to smelly socks, fast food wrappers and moldy who knows what.
It stunk to high heaven and it was better to seal the door to the basement like it was an abandoned bomb shelter rather then venture to its reeking depths.
The boy managed to do what three women could not — frighten me away from my man cave.
To be honest, through summer it was not missed, as there were plenty of outdoor activities to keep me occupied.
Now it is fall and the boy better understand the winds of change they are a blowin’.
Fall means football, hockey, sweatpants and a place to hide from the dreaded “honey do” list.
It also means I lose whatever slim television privileges I had upstairs to The Good Wife, Private Practice and whatever other chick-flick is on TV.
Dad is being pushed back into the basement which is just fine thanks.
So boy, heed this warning, dad wants his big comfy couch back so clear out your mess — and while you’re upstairs take a shower.
