Those of you tempted to bust out into Kelly Clarkson lyrics in reaction to the title, you are excused. Go ahead. This is the only time I'll condone any praise of Kelly Clarkson, so take it if you want it. Commence. I'll wait.

...

Done?

Okay, now let's move along. (Those of you tempted to bust out into AAR lyrics, sorry. I'll try and get you a turn later.)

For those of you that don't know, I have a mass of siblings. Three sisters and one brother. Now before my little bro came into the picture, I was the only guy in the house (minus my dad) which meant, that's right, I had my own room. I was free to do whatever I wanted to the walls, floor, whatever.

Then little Drewmeister popped onto the scene and that independence is gone.

So for nearly a decade I've been sharing a room with the little guy. It isn't that bad, really.

Well, except that when he turned seven he had the uncontrollable urge to strike up some bedtime conversation in which I, being fairly sleep-deprived, had no interested in participating in.

"Ben, are vampires real?"

"Barglsmuffinbush..."

"Ben?"

"Zzzzz..."

"Ben!"

*climbs up on the bunk and decides to whack me in the head*

"Za...wha?"

"Are vampires real?"

"No. Go to sleep."

"Okay."

...

"Ben, are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Stop talking."

"Ben, if you were a vampire, could you fly?"

"No."

"If you bit me, would I fly?"

"Do you want to find out?"

"Not really."

"Okay, good. Go to sleep."

...

"Ben, do you have a cape?"

This would basically go on for about half-an-hour or so until he finally gets tired enough to go to sleep, or decided he needed to get up. At this, he would turn on the light (which, when you're on the top bunk, is like a floodlight), and start looking for something he lost a week ago for no apparent reason. As I tried to block out the light under the covers, he would ask me if I could see it.

"Do you see it, Ben?!"

"See what?"

"My Gameboy!"

"Why do you need your Gameboy at 10 at night?"

"I need to see if my Pokemon grew in the nursery."

"Get in bed."

"Not until..."

At this point, I would get frustrated and either bean him across the head with a small stuffed animal, or get up and turn off the light. If it was a particularly bad night, he would begin to argue with me, then the parents would awaken, also sleep-deprived, and no one goes to bed happy.

He's stopped doing that now, although he does have the uncanny instinct to talk in his sleep. Well, after years of this, my graduated sister moved out of the house. What did this mean? I could finally take the office, and start to transform it into my own room. I'm happy to say that I am now writing this blog entry in my own room.

As of today, we've only done a few things. My dresser is down here, my bed is in a placeholder position till we can get the huge computer desk out of here. The paint job and the floral trim aren't exactly a masculine touch, but we might be able to get the thing painted some time later this year. Right now, it's more office than room, but I at least have a place of my own.

So that's the update for today. Whoo.

Renovatively,

Dr. Bionicle