Lie the fuck down. A bedtime story.

I trust we are all familiar with the modern classic, Go The Fuck To Sleep. If not, get thee to YouTube immediately and check out the audiobook version narrated by Samuel L Jackson. You won’t be disappointed.

What I’m proposing is a version for cat owners whose cats are allowed in the bedroom at night (lest they stand post outside the door and sing the song of their people until dawn). Now, I happen to like snuggling with cats, but some are less disruptive than others. Gemma is light on her paws, and gingerly tiptoes around the foot of the bed so as not to disturb you. Twitchy stands on your face. He requires use of your pillow – for his ass. He uses his claws to see if you are really asleep. He brings his nose to your nose and heavy purr-breathes into your mouth. He repeatedly jumps on and off the bed with the grace and agility of a sumo wrestler, prompting my sleepy bedmate to launch into a halfhearted rendition of Wrecking Ball. Twitchy, needs to lie the fuck down. If I haven’t mumbled this phrase a thousand times at 3 am, I haven’t said it once.

I have to say, pre-Perry this wasn’t much of a problem for me because I NEVER used to wake up at night. Honestly, I once slept through my house being robbed. Thankfully, because I really wouldn’t have wanted to deal with all that. Now that I have to pee every few hours, I have the pleasure of bonding with Mr. T in all his nocturnal glory. He is in heaven, I am in a hell of my own making and my husband is singing Miley Cyrus songs. I think this is what the kids mean when they say the struggle is real.

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