It has been said that a man’s home is his castle.

I recently threw a party at the Mendenhall Inn for 45 of my best friends, many who I had known for most of my 30 years in Chadds Ford. And in looking at my guest list I would venture to say that less than half have been to my place.

Now I must admit that at times the reason is due to my suffering from a condition diagnosed by professional organizer Susan Sabo of West Chester as CHAOS- "Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome." You know, someone wants to come over, but you look at the path winding through the clutter in your living room and tell them, “I'm sorry but today is not convenient. A meteorite just came crashing through my back window and a government team needs to decontaminate the place first.”

I know, I know–I’m sure many people probably think because of my long association with several Chadds Ford nonprofits, as well as having succumbed to the disease of 18th century re-enacting, that I must live in some historic dwelling with a deed dating back to the early 1800s.

But alas, no.

Do you know how hard it is to live in affluent Chadds Ford among historic stone homes, gentleman farms and Executive McMansions in a...well...micro condo?

I've had more than one friend come over and tell me the micro condo was "darling".

I had a significant new friend over Monday evening for the inevitable first visit.  We met for dinner at neighboring Chadds Ford Tavern prior to returning to the micro condo. Having been to his house in a lovely quiet neighborhood in Drexel Hill, I knew my floor plan could more than fit into his living room, dining room and kitchen with space left over for a tennis court.

As soon as we sat down at our booth, I ordered my favorite anesthetic, a Long Island Iced Tea, a potent potable made with five liqueurs. I was totally dreading the evening.

Luckily, he never described the micro condo as "darling". But I was ready to block his moves with a full body tackle in the event he tried to look into the center hall closet where I had hidden the large box of clutter I had shoveled up with the front-end loader 10 minutes prior to leaving for dinner.

Micro condo has great neighbors too (don't worry they are illiterate and cannot
read this).

One backs his dual exhaust monster truck (and yes he seems to be an adult well over the age of 21…maybe) into the area in front of my bedroom window. It roars to life at 6:15 a.m. every morning like the sound of a 747 running up its engines at the end of the runway seconds prior to departure.

I also have the two neighbors off my back balcony who go in and out at all hours of the night. Each time they are compelled to activate or deactivate their car’s security system with the blast of the horn. And no, it's not that cute little “tweet-tweet” that some cars have; it's the full horn. Now I ask you: Is that really necessary?

I think it may finally be time for this lady to move on and start looking for a new castle.