It would seem that there’s an inherent flaw with siring a couple of offspring, raising them in a manner consistent with a successful adulthood, and kicking their genetically inherited, pasty white asses out of the house.

Sometimes they come back home for a visit, and in the process, reclaim what used to be their bedroom.  The bedroom, that is, which is now your own personal Bloggery complete with an L shaped desk with two monitors, a laptop docking station, and assorted wall hangings which feature pictures of Rosebud, and other elements of happy days gone by.

Authors note:  For those of you who never saw Citizen Kane, Rosebud was the MacGuffin.  Ironically enough, Rosebud is also the name of the Basselope featured in one of the framed posters I have on the wall in my Bloggery.  Chalk one up for my ability to cross pollinate a classic film and my favorite comic strip at no extra cost to you.

As such, my normal Saturday morning ritual was derailed.  That ritual, of course, is the one which involves a lovingly slathered Everything bagel, a coffee flavored energy drink, and yours truly planted firmly in front of two monitors; blogging America great for an hour or so before the TharpSter TreadMill makes demands about a trip to the dog park so that I can pick up her bodily extrusions, followed by a walk around the disc golf course in hopes of lunging at assorted critters, varmints, and machete wielding lunatics which hang around in the adjacent wooded area. An area, I might add, which happens to be littered with decaying carcasses of disc golf enthusiasts who missed their mark.

Instead, I endeavored to continue my ritual in the discomfort of my own bedroom, propped up against a couple of pillows with the undocked laptop on a TV tray next to my breakfast.

As expected, the mere fact that I couldn’t take advantage of the luxury of the control center here at TharpSter.Org in which to perpetuate a new found pastime was completely lost on Faith.

She demanded her share of the lovingly slathered bagel.

She considered a gulp or two of the coffee flavored energy drink.

She posed for a picture.

Granted, she only posed for that picture under the condition that I would stop making the clicking noises on the glowing silver thing, put my shoes on, and take her to the park.

The struggle is real.