This is an old photo that I never got around to posting; it's from the old apartment. While it isn't a great picture, I love the look on Harley's face: "I'm busy here! Stop looking at me!"

The box had a treat or two hiding inside, and hung from the play gym attached to the top of Harley's cage for the longest time, untouched. I slowly added extra rope and strips of leather, and cut more and bigger holes into the sides, until Dainty Harley decided it was easy enough for him to tackle to find the surprise inside.

I actually have a bunch of photographs I haven't gotten around to posting. Apart from my usual laziness, I've been easily irritated lately. Something about trying to figure out what to do when I grow up, I suppose (what else, right?), but in the meantime I'm increasing my intake of magnesium, sangria, and garlic-and-greens (the last thanks in part to Norma). So far it seems to be working.

Harley's bed time has been something of a sore spot lately. I've described the routine before: we take him up to the bedroom in the evening for Scritches And Loves (picture pops), and when it's clear he's been mesmerized by the attention, I take him downstairs on a stick (hey! we're both sleepy at this point, so it's wise to be cautious), and place him so he can step up onto his sleeping perch. Actually, the stick makes that maneuver easy, since I don't have to reach half my body into the cage to get him to the perch.

At least, it might be easy, if the bird in question hasn't turned into a Klingon. Some nights I think it might be easier to get an actual Klingon to go to bed than a bird who Does! Not! Want! To! — and has two claws and a sharp beak for climbing onto hands and arms, rather than sticks and perches. Forget leaving him clinging to the side of the cage while I guiltily creep upstairs. Lately he won't let go of me.

For awhile I would take him back upstairs at this point, for "Five More Minutes" of scritches. Sometimes this worked: after a bit more attention, he would calmly step onto his perch for bed. But now he's started wanting even more. No matter how many times I tell him "only one" Five More Minutes.

My friend Nance suggested reinforcing the bedtime routine, perhaps by adding a small snack when Harley finally steps onto his sleeping perch. But he doesn't seem interested in snacks at that point, only company. As sweet as that is, I have to go to bed as much as he does. And while I'm sure he's capable of understanding only one more Five More Minutes, these past two nights I've decided that the extra potential struggle of a second try might be more than I can handle in my current cranky state.

After his first refusal last night I took him to a chair — not back upstairs — and after a moment he stepped back onto the stick, and then onto his sleeping perch. Sounds easy, right? But I don't pretend to think it'll go easy every night. Harley is smart, and humans are easily manipulated. Usually it's easier for us to change our routines.

For example, remember the old FAA Airport/Facility Directories we give to Harley after they go out of date?

Well, now Harley thinks all books are toys, even ones we are reading.

And who could fault him for that? We sure can't. So now we either hide books (along with phones and remote controls), or we just don't read. Much easier that way.

I don't know what will happen to Harley's bedtime routine over the next few days, months or years. But I'm sure Harley has some good ideas.