This is my bed. MY BED.

My warm, cozy, comfy, safe, monster-free, nobody-hisses-at-me sanctuary of a bed. MY BED. With delicately pastel powder-blue sheets that my mom insisted on using so shut up. And look who I just encountered holding court on my warm, cozy, comfy, safe, monster-free, now-unquestionably-hiss-infested sanctuary of a bed as I innocently -- but admirably and responsibly! -- brought my I-washed-it-myself clean laundry to my room. It's late so I'll give you a hint who it is: that heinous anus the world knows -- and loathes -- as Bitch Kitty. In MY BED. Glaring and growling and hissing and I wouldn't put it past her to be farting at me in MY BED. Which as I've stated here is my private, sacred, revered sanctuary. Which I never bother to make in the morning but shut up.

And now I feel scared and unwelcome and growled at and shaken in my unwavering certainty that there are no monsters -- and there is no hissing -- in my bed. MY BED.

So ... um ... can I come over?