Dogs in the Den

Yes, I have been cleaning the last few weeks so that the new empty nest is actually, well, a little bit emptier. For one thing, too many stuffed animals stalked the house. (And I was haunted by the impression of an 80 plus year old relative still having her daughter's Barbies hanging around.)

I do kind of wonder how it got this way. I suppose it had something to do with each of the kids having their own room. Of course, back in the day as one of 7 we had to share, and we were used to shifting around rooms, so it was more difficult to accumulate much stuff (and a lot of it got handed down and loved to death--or broken). Besides, we were outside a lot more.

I really think it had to do with my kids having too many birthday parties. Who needs 'em anyway.

Anyway, I've gotten past the initial flurry, and am back to browsing on the net a bit more. What should I find but a story on this subject with conflicting advice and a few horror stories:

Ross Shachter, a professor of management science and engineering at Stanford University and a resident fellow in a dorm there, sees degrees of insult. “Other students were complaining about losing their rooms to their siblings,” Mr. Shachter said, “and this student said, ‘You have nothing to complain about. I lost my room to a dog.’ ”

Ms. Dugas has firsthand experience with the subject. The night before she left for college, her mother, a psychologist, asked for her house keys. “I was so emotional,” she said. “I broke down in absolute sobs.”

Her mother. A psychologist. Well, I haven't gone there. I actually gave my new freshman my house key, as she had forgotten to bring one to school with her. Just in case.

I have assured my son that his baseball cards are safe. (Good thing he took his gekko, though)

My daughters' shoes and purses left behind are fair game. Somewhere else there is a budding Imelda Marcos.

And the dogs stay in the den.