It is not allowed on the bed. It's never been allowed on the bed. People let their cats, dogs, and sometimes babies sleep with them, but never me. I've always stood (lain?) firm. It lives downstairs. That's where it belongs. Downstairs. I'm a woman of my word. Right?
But there it was, sitting there, pleading. "You've had a nasty accident", it said. "You need me. You know you do. What with all the time you're spending up there. Lying down on your bed, moaning about the pain."
So I gave in. It's upstairs on the bed with me right now, helping me write this.
My lovely iPad.