As I’m typing this blog post, I’m doing my best to wake up fully and I’m on my third cup of tea. I didn’t stay up past my bedtime last night. Actually, I’m trying to get into a better routine when it comes to sleeping. I’ve always struggled with sleep issues, and it’s imperative for me, the older I get, to get more restful sleep.

But my cat didn’t get the memo. Or he simply doesn’t care.

It’s getting lighter earlier in the day, meaning he wants me to get up ridiculously early to feed him. After I scramble out of bed to fill his dish, he eats and then wanders back into the bedroom.

The second part of his morning routine is to jump onto the bed on my partner’s side, trample over her head then mine, and settle on my stomach for a five-minute cuddle. He can jump onto my side of the bed, bypassing stomping on our heads, and it would be the fastest route since I sleep on the side at the entrance to the bedroom. Atticus, though, loves the production, and it’s possible he enjoys being a turd.

Also, if you’re wondering why I don’t lock him out of the room, he protests by slamming his entire body into any closed door, including the one to the walk-in closet, until I open it.

Now that he’s gotten his way, he’s sound asleep in a sunny spot in the front room and I’m looking at seven must-do tasks on my to-do list.

It’s going to be a long day.