The watches of the night.

Last night was one of those "NO SLEEP FOR YOU!" nights.

First, Ginger Beastie wet the bed, which necessitated a pajama change and bed stripping at 1 AM.  There's nothing like the screech of a cold, whiny toddler and the whiff of cold pee-sheets to wake you right up. It took me about half an hour to get everything straightened out, and by then, I was wide awake.

Three cats decided to play "Elephant Chase-ass," which involved gaining 100 pounds apiece, judging by how liud their treads were, and thundering up and down the stairs, over beds and under blankets.  They united long enough to torment the dog for twenty minutes or so.

I tossed and turned, for a bit, and was settling in as Bitey decided to engage in loud, slurpy personal hygiene at the foot of the bed. He seemed to spend at leas an hour on his personal regions before finding what must have been a particularly tasty and stubborn piece of toe jam; he chewed between his toes forever.

I booted him off the bed. He bounced right up.
I nudged him again. He dug his claws in.
The third push earned a "MMmmmrrrrrroooooOOOOORRRRRRWWWWWRRRRR!" of aggravation.

Consequently, this morning was rough.