Except one thing. While he falls asleep in my room 99% of the time, he typically wakes up around 5 AM, and decides I'M AWAKE NOW AND EVERYONE SHOULD BE TOO. And he will start clawing at the underside of my bedroom door, trying to get it open. This is loud, annoying, and leaves door fibers all over the place. And it's not like he needs to get a head start on his Fat Cat To Do List. He wants out just so he can walk around outside the room for 5 minutes and come back inside to fall asleep again. It's like he has to make sure the world outside my room didn't disappear over night, which seems like a plausible fear since he's an indoor house cat (my neighborhood is way too busy and there are too many little kids who'd snatch him up), who only gets to go outside when it's time to go to the vet. So he goes out, does a perimeter check, and scratches the shit out of my door to get back in.
Obviously, I don't want this to become a habit. And since it's impossible to ignore, and throwing pillows at him only temporarily ceases him, I've been trying to come up with solutions.
The easiest solution is to sleep with my door open so he can just wander in and out. But thanks to many a lingering, irrational, childhood phobia, I can't. I mean, who knows what's going to lurk in while I'm sleeping. Falling asleep with the door open is like leaving a lit sign saying HEY RAPIST HOMICIDAL CLOWN DOLL DEMONS WITH UNHINGABLE JAWS: FREE LUNCH with an arrow pointing toward my bed. I just can't do it. Yes, I know, things could very well already be in my room when I close my door at the end of the night. Not sure how that works. That seems to be something I can ignore.
The second easiest solution is to stack baskets of dirty laundry in front of the door, denying him access. But since I finished all my laundry last week, I only have one basket. And that's not enough.
The third easiest solution is to get Bill Purray de-clawed. But that shit's expensive and needlessly painful. (wow, glad to see where my true priorities lie. #sensitive)
The fourth easiest solution would be to pitch Bill Purray outside and let the hoodrats adopt him.
Buuut, I'd miss him. And if he was gone, I'd have significantly fewer things to Instagram.
These past few days, though, I've just been giving in. After all, I'm a champion sleeper and can typically pass out again if I ever get up. And I've been learning to sleep with the door ajar, not open, so Bill can slink in and out from morning patrol as he sees fit, and I still feel like the door's closed. And everyone's cool.
Except, this morning. I wake up to the sound of scratching. I stumble out of bed. I let him out. I stumble back into bed. I fall back into sleep coma. Almost immediately, I have a nightmare. One of those insanely real ones where I didn't remember falling asleep. I was in bed, sleeping, when I felt someone staring at me through my window. I couldn't move. But I knew someone was there. Then, I heard my doorbell ringing. And I definitely felt someone like right at my window, but I couldn't turn over to check it out. I could imagine their shape, what they looked like, and I could feel them staring at me.
The last thing I thought before I woke up was, "These dreams are scary because they're true." My eyes flashed open. My room was pitch black. I was lying in the same position I was in in my dream, and I still couldn't move. My mind was literally racing thinking that there was someone at my window. All I could think was, TURN ON THE LIGHT, but I couldn't move. It felt like sleep paralysis.
I finally got enough feeling in my neck to able to turn and look at my clock. 4:01, and there was not even a remote chance of going back to sleep. I wrangled my arm free, and stared at the darkened window as I reached to turn on the light (rookie mistake, I know. Anyone who knows anything knows that demons trick you by making you think they're at the window, when really they're standing by the light, waiting for you to turn it on so they can strike). I was actually feeling a bit panicky as I reached for the lamp switch, imagining a terrifying face to appear, and me having no weapon other than my Miracle Pillow and a wireless alarm clock.
I finally managed to turn on the light. I stared at the window, heart about to break against my ribs.
But, I saw nothing. No one was there. My heart finally settled down. It was dead quiet.
And that's when Bill Purray jumped up and on to the bed from the space between the bed and the window.
I screetched as my heart exploded in panic and my brain melted in fear. In a knee-jerk reaction I threw my pillows and blankets at him, launching him off the bed, both of us yowling in confusion.
I jumped off the bed, kicking and shuddering uncontrollably, unable to catch my breath for a good 2 minutes. I eventually got back into bed, but I was still shaky.
Needless to say, I didn't go back to sleep. Now it's 2:30 and I'm on my 4th coffee and I'm so tired I might just die.
I need a nap. And if he keeps this shit up, Bill Purray's going to need a new home.