under siege

I love these sponges that start out small and then grow larger when water is added to them.

I feel that way about my son's use of space. His stuff just keeps expanding.

Alexander arrived home Monday and his room is still a mess. He tells me, "I've decided to make my room a walk-in closet, and I'll live in the living room." It's where I find him sleeping this morning.

I have been asking Alexander to write out thank you notes for his graduation gifts. Graduation was three weeks ago, and, in my opinion, the notes should have been done by now — especially considering all the down time Alexander has while sitting around in a jury room from ten  to five every day. 

Tonight Alexander promises to start them. I'm in my room, and come out an hour or so later. One note has been written. Granted, it's a very nice note, but he has many others still to write.  I see some of his cards strewn across our dining table. I see other cards in a messy pile on our console.  A third group of cards sits on a coffee table.  And worse, Alexander is in none of these three places. He's on the sofa with his computer "talking to friends." 

I'm frustrated. Annoyed. And impatient. My voice conveys all three. Alexander's response? "Being home is like landing in Normandy; I feel like I'm under constant bombardment."

Well, I'm happy at least he's making use of his History education.