It isn't the converting of the music room that used to heavily reverberate with the sounds of electric guitars, sax, and drums wielded by way too caned way too drunk way too in the middle of a mid life crises chaps into a bedroom for a little girl.
It isn't the giving up of a private comfortable quiet office where thought was easily made available to process vast amounts of technical information into stunningly delivered training courses for bored engineers so that a new baby boy has a bedroom.
It isn't the clearing out of a fridge stocked with a ledgendary array of beers from around the world to make way for milk, smoothies, frubes, cheese strings, kinder bars, more frubes, babyBel cheeses, ambrosia ready made glow-sinisterly-in-the-dark custard pots, and a few frubes.
It isn't the removal of a vast selection of hugely entertaining war films and science fiction epics and collections of colourful hardcore horror stories to make way for Lego, an EU mountain of play doh, 40 different dolls that piss their pants when you squeeze their hands, and Fluffy goes bloody nowhere toys.
It isn't trying to fit every single bloke thing listed above into a single corner of a single room in the house.
No, it's none of that, none of it is a problem, what IS a problem is some bastard looking at it and telling me that it's false advertising calling it a corner because according to the laws of geometry the most I've achieved is a small smudge.
Oh and while I'm here, cheese strings, seriously, piss off.
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