While D is away my cats "Holly-sit" and supervise my sleeping 'cause of wardrobe monsters and potential burglar and psychos. In a perfect world I'd have one furry hot water bottle on my feet, one on my tummy and another curled round my side.
Unfortunately they have a mini war over WHO gets to sit with me and who gets relegated to the foot of the bed. This war is not quiet and involves lots of pouncing and hissing which means by midnight, the object of their affection starts kicking them off the bed and trying to squish them in the covers so they'll shut the hell up.
I swear Evie has a head made of concrete. I'm happily snoozing when the heavy sledgehammer "butts me" in the face. No matter how I hide, pin her down, or how many "noooevieonoo" noises I make she inflicts her very wet nose and drill-bit head on my face. She is my least favourite wake-up call.
I really want a house party, only I want a lot of junk food and pic n mix (I want pic n mix real bad) and maybe some people could just bring me the free booze and free food and then just go home so I can sit in the bed with my personal cat war and a movie while I eat my own body weight in candy.