For Dudley, bedtime is usually two to three hours before we are anywhere close to actually going to bed. Which means that he spends two to three hours every night pitiably trying to shield his eyes from the dim light of our living room, in order to convey to us how tragic his life is.
Usually, he shoves his head under a pillow with a heaving sigh. Sometimes, he curls up beside me and tries to arrange himself so that his head is under my arm or leg, using me as his personal darkroom, while giving me Meaningful Looks: If you think this is annoying, just imagine how I feel!
Last night was the absolute zenith of pathetic:
OH THE HUMANITY.
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