Prisoner In My Own House?

I'm warning you all now--I'm about to go on a righteous rant.

Writing for a website that gets about 600 unique hits a day is a lot of fun for the most part. It's a nice tension reliever and it gives me a social outlet without having to be actually, you know, social. For the most part, I'm a self-admitting misanthrope who really doesn't like people in general, but a brotha's got to make a living, so I can turn it on when I need to. When I'm away from work or friends, I'm generally keeping to myself. Not that I don't like being the center of attention--I certainly can enjoy the spotlight on occasion. But the side nobody sees is the sometimes quiet introspective person who sometimes prefers nothing more than to spend an entire weekend reading a good book or working on a jigsaw puzzle--I find solitary pursuits extremely satisfying.

Even so, by having this website, so much of my private life open to public scrutiny, and there is one hugely frustrating side effect. I don't know why it seems so, but whenever I make a post, it is not an open invitation for unsolicited advice.

Go back and read that sentence again. I'll wait.

Ok.

When I *do* need advice or help with a troubling issue, this website is the last place I look to solve my dilemmas. I have a phone book full of close friends and family who are smart, experienced, and usually patient with me. And any real problems I might encounter generally never make it to this digital graffiti wall. For the most part, my life is fairly simple and easy--the things you read about are minor annoyances at most, usually written in a manner that makes them sound bigger than they are for the sake of interesting reading.

But the latest group of comments has got me scratching my head. I've mentioned my roommate's dogs a few times, and some of the accommodations I'm choosing to make to keep home life peaceful, in addition to facilitating my own inherent laziness.

But being a prisoner in my own house? Seriously, that's one of the most asinine things I've ever heard. Taking two or three off-hand comments and coming up with a mind-numbingly stupid statement like that wins the gold medal for twisted logic.

So I went back and reread my posts, and then read the comments again. Here are my thoughts:

First of all, taking advice or hearing opinions on pets from people who don't have dogs or refuse to have them is like getting marriage advice from a celibate priest. It just doesn't compute.

Second of all, these dogs, while playful and wonderful companions, are extremely well trained, and yeah, they are also watchdogs. They're supposed to growl and bark whenever they hear strange noises in the middle of the night. We don't need an alarm system--we've got golden retrievers with bionic hearing.

And I'm putting the coffeemaker in my room out of consideration to my roommate. He's never said one word about me making noise since I've moved in, and actually just yesterday mentioned that the dogs are used to me now because they don't make noise and wake him up when I'm coming and going at odd hours.

However, they are extremely playful and love interaction with humans. So whenever they hear somebody in the kitchen, they want to come out and be social. But my roommate values his privacy and sleeps with his door closed--which I appreciate because his girlfriend stays here a few times a week. And the doggie door is in his bedroom wall, not in the sliding door off the kitchen. So the dogs are in there at night and can go outside and do their business whenever they want to, without whining or scratching at the bedroom door trying to get out.

But if I'm banging around in the kitchen at four am, not only will the noise be unappreciated by my roommate, whose bedroom is not very far from the kitchen, and of course the dogs are going to hear me, too. Our schedules are not in sync by any stretch of the imagination, so whatever I can do to mitigate the noise factor whenever he's sleeping is just simple consideration.

Third of all, those that know me know that I'm kinda lazy. Trudging up and down the stairs over and over again to refill my coffee cup would be a hassle, not to mention the possibility of spillage on the carpet. When I make a pot of coffee, I usually drink the whole pot, or most of it, and it would be a pain in the ass going back and forth. Why not just keep a coffeemaker upstairs in my room?

Fourth of all, for the most part, I *am* kind of a hermit at home. When Rob and I had the apartment, of course I used the living room and kitchen areas much more because of the TV and such. But our schedules were dictated by the casino, and sometimes we went days without seeing each other. Otherwise, in the other places I've lived, I have my tv, computer, and all my books in room, so I tend to spend almost all of my time there. When I lived at that old 'Ruben's House' place, I spent about 90% of my time in my room when I was at home. Coming home from the noise and lights of the casino environment every day, I prefer a quiet and private sanctuary to relax and unwind, so holing up in my room like the Unabomber in his Montana cabin is just fine with me. I have to talk to people all day long, and not by choice, either, so hiding out in my 'fortress of solitude' is exactly what I want most days, especially right after I get home from work.

And my roommate works out of the office in the house, and is in and out all day long. He doesn't need me down in the living room with the TV on distracting him when he's at his desk doing paperwork and whatnot. I choose to be kind of a hermit--it works for me, and my roommate has the added benefit of sharing his home with somebody he doesn't see very much.

But, as much as I try to keep the dogs from making noise at certain times of the day and night, I still find time every day to play with them and get rambunctious and wear them out (not to mention wearing me out, too!). And as nice as this house is, the dogs are an added bonus, not a detriment in the least. I love having pets around--dogs, cats, it doesn't matter. I haven't had pets of my own since I sold my condo back in Phoenix several years ago, so having three golden retrievers around is great fun. Those who think otherwise need to get a clue.

Mikey