It’s winter, as discussed. It’s therefore colder, as should be obvious to anyone who believes in science, evidence, their senses, etc. And since we don’t run the heater much, the poor bedraggled felines are left to their own devices to scavenge warmth wherever they can.
On the weekends, I continue to get up at 6AM every day. Years and years of getting up at 4AM has made “sleeping in” until 6 feel like a luxury anyway, and I’m a big believer of keeping a routine whether it’s a “work day” (haha) or “off day.”
Heather disagrees with everything I’ve written above, and will gleefully sleep in until either A) the dog punches her awake to get his breakfast, B) her bladder threatens to ruin the mattress that she loves more than sleep, or C) I come tell her the weekend is over and it’s now Monday and she needs to go to work.
When she’s asleep solo in the bed, this is what I find, every single time.
Not pictured: The dog, who was asleep where my feet would go on the other side of the bed. I got all of them glaring at me for daring to interrupt Aurora Rose’s wondrous slumber, so I nanced right off back into the office and entertained myself while they all got their beauty sleep.
Gotta say, it works though.