Bedtime ritual

The same thing happens every night.

Harley hears me brush my teeth, dashes into the bedroom, and lunges on my bed.

I then spend the next 15 minutes explaining to him why he can’t just commandeer my sleeping space, as he shoots me the “bitch boo bye” look.

Harley then closes his eyes and starts snoring, and I get frustrated and shove him out of the way.

The compromise usually consists of half the 100-pound snoring-farting-mess sleeping on my leg…