Cecil never, ever sleeps on the ironing board (it’s always out). Except when he always sleeps on it when I sew. And not that cute, little, curled-up ball – the long, stretched-out when-did-this-kitten-get-so-big, right smack in the middle of the ironing board. He knows what he’s doing. Eventually I kick him off, but until then I usually try to make do, ie., I iron on the little corner and drape my fabric across him, which he doesn’t seem to mind, huh?