I’m having trouble in the bedroom.

With the dogs.

You didn’t think anything else was going on, did you?

You know me better than that.

For people who are new to this column, let me say straight out that I’m divorced.

Happily.

If you can be happily married, you can be happily divorced.

And I’m not just happily divorced, I’m joyously divorced.

I still wake up every morning, delighted.

I like being divorced so much, I’m divorced twice.

From Thing One and Thing Two.

Some people consider divorce a failure, but not me. My divorce was a success.

I freed myself.

Even though it wasn’t free.

Divorce costs a fortune, but I would’ve paid more. I would’ve paid 10 times as much.

You get what you pay for.

Just like garbage hauling.

If you have a whole lot of garbage, you’re gonna need a bigger dumpster.

And it’s gonna cost you more.

It’s only fair.

Lawyers gotta make a living.

So do garbage haulers.

I had tons and tons of garbage.

Bye-bye, garbage.

Seriously, I joke because we should rethink divorce.

I know too many people who feel bad about themselves because they got divorced.

But it’s human to make a mistake.

The divorce wasn’t a mistake.

The marriage was a mistake.

And it’s easy to make a mistake when you’re young, in love, and still have hormones.

With all that going on, mistakes are inevitable.

I mean, you’re practically combustible.

And, if you’re Italian like me, good luck.

I never had a chance.

So correct your mistake.

Reverse is a legit gear, friends.

Make yourself happy.

Which brings me to the fact that I sleep with four dogs.

As you may know, they’re all little Cavalier King Charles spaniels.

But lately, one isn’t so cavalier.

Kit has gotten very territorial. He guards his water, so we gave him his own water bowl in the family room. He guards the couch, so we all sit on the other couch. And now he’s guarding the bed, taking the pillow next to mine.

Then he started growling at me if I turned over.

So I stopped turning over.

You get the idea.

I take crap from dogs I would never take from husbands.

I tried all kinds of things, including getting a doggy behaviorist.

But none of it worked, and in Kit’s defense, he’s perfectly adorable unless he’s guarding something.

But the other night, we went up to bed, and my oldest dog Little Tony walked across the pillow, and Kit went after him. I grabbed Kit just in time, but he bit my hand. And then one of the other dogs, Boone, went after Kit because he was going after me, and we had a dogfight in bed until I could get one out of the room.

Don’t be alarmed, because these are small dogs and their fights aren’t scary, but it’s not a good thing. And also Little Tony has heart problems, and I’m not gonna give him a cardiac in his own bed.

I mean my bed.

Does it matter?

The only rule in my bedroom is that you can’t hurt anybody.

Remember Fifty Shades of Grey? Not my thing. My safe word would be, are you frigging kidding me? Or, what do you think you’re doing? And also, put that thing away.

And maybe, get over yourself, bucko.

To return to point, after Kit tried to bite Tony, I knew I needed to throw somebody out of the bedroom.

Now Kit’s sleeping downstairs in the sunroom, with his own air conditioner.

That’s how tough I am.

You might be wondering about the reactions of the other dogs.

They think divorce is worth the money.

Look for Lisa’s best-selling historical novel, “Eternal,” in stores now. Also look for Francesca’s critically acclaimed debut novel, “Ghosts of Harvard,” now in paperback.