Ye Doom Is Ycomme True

Well, it finally happened.

I've spent a goodish chunk of the day hoicking computer stuff down the stairs, rearranging furniture and having complex technical discussions with the Cox Cable guy in connection with what I always dreaded would come to pass:

The Fortress of Solitude at Orgle Manor has been breached. Yes, I'm now posting from my basement study, but it is no longer solely mine.

You see, up until this week, the two younger Llama-ettes had doubled up in a single bedroom. Their elder sister occupies another and the Missus had been using the spare as her study/office. Well, owing to an escalating civil war between the gels on the subject of going to sleep and getting up in the rmorning, we decided that the time had come to part them. The four year old was moved down the hall and the spare tee vee and computer were removed from her new bedroom and transplanted to the basement.

On the whole, I don't mind at all having the computer back down here. It'll make evening posting all the more pleasant and easier, especially as I'll be able to listen to music at the same time. It's just that I feel I've lost my last bit of autonomy now that the Missus will be sharing. I can see it now. It'll start with comments about how much the room reminds her of my old law school digs. Then it will rapidly build to requests for flower prints on the wall and the "suggestion" that I repaint all the trim from dark blue to "maize" or some-such. Also, I somehow feel that the days of my enjoying a quiet cigar in here are now o-fficially gone.

Oh, well. As Basil Fawlty once said, she'll have to sew 'em back on, first.