I am a compulsive bed maker. I don’t like sleeping in an unmade bed and I don’t like getting dressed in a state of mess. (Keep your comments to yourself all those that may have seen my bedroom before I was about twenty years old.)
I walk in the bedroom and think what the hell? My room is a mess! I know I made the bed. And from behind the pile of blankets I hear the sigh. A contented sleeping dog. With his ass on our pillows. Good thing I love him. Can’t say I have ever had another roommate that I’d let get away with this….
Excitement on the side 
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Oh man, my dogs do the exact same thing! And my bed has to be made at all times. Because the dogs jump on it and then there are bed crumbs to keep me up at night. Bed crumbs are the WORST.