Good Ole Rocky Top

For the past few days (since PhillyTwo moved back in) I've had these familiar "Rocky Top" lyrics running through my head, and I think I know why. I've been giving up closet and drawer space like I'm the clueless guy who lets his girlfriend move in, thinking "how much room can one sexy, little baby doll need?" The answer is, of course, all of it. In this case it's my daughter who's pushing me out of my roomy existence, and back to the more familiar "cramped up city life", and like a good mother, I let her. I did get to enjoy maybe a year and a half of stretching my stuff out into the spare bedroom closets before she moved back in and staked her claim. I admit it. I had shoes and clothes in three different rooms. It was every woman's dream. But not anymore. I'm back to being as squished as the passenger in the middle seat on an airplane. Don't get me wrong. I love having her here. I just wish I could have kept a few of my drawers. But while she's singing, "You'll always be, home sweet home to me!" I'm singing, "It's a pity life can't be simple again."