The Nightly Feline Migration

For those of you who don't know me that well, I'm a cat person.
The crazy cat lady to be exact.
Long story short, I have sixteen cats living in my house.  For more on that story, or in an attempt to convince you I'm not really insane, you can read THIS or go HERE.
This makes for lots of interesting situations, but one that happens without fail is yes.....
The Nightly Feline Migration.
My husband is a cat person too, although lately he's a bit catted out.  Kinda like eating your favorite food three times a day for two years and you'll get tired of it.  That's where he is.  He still likes cats (don't let him lie to you and tell you any differently) but he's honestly tired of them.  Maybe it's because of the whole migration thing.
My husband works from home.  He drives about 60,000 miles a year.  When he goes to bed for the night, he's ready to s.l.e.e.p.  Unfortunately for him, I don't usually go to bed at the same time he does.
For some reason, every cat in our house leaves him alone when he goes up the stairs.  They do not however do the same to me.  When I get up to even head in the general direction of the stairs, some weird cat sense kicks in and they all go frankly crazy.  It's like the apocalypse or something.  Maybe the Mayan cats had a different calendar and there's something they're not telling us.  But there it is.
You'd think I starve these animals.  I'll state for the record that I do not in fact starve them, they're all either chubby or straight up FAT which is maybe while they all fly up the stairs at mach speed for a small cup of food that's intended for one of the downstairs challenged cats.  When I go up in fact, I've already dumped not one, not even two or three, but FOUR cups of food in their bowls downstairs.
Why then they feel the need to ascend the stairs at yes, mach one speed, when I go up is a mystery.  
What is also a mystery is why they feel the need to, instead of traversing the flat surface that is floor, jump up on the bed, across or over my husbands slumbering body, to get to the other side of the room.
Let me tell you it's a bit disconcerting to be awakened from a dead sleep by sixteen chubby and/or fat felines first charging up a wooden staircase (do not ask me how those tiny little feet can so effectively mimic the sound and rattling level of the same number of baby elephants) then sliding into the wall before making the turn into our bedroom only to stampede your sleeping body before diving off the other side of the bed.
This happens every. single. night. without fail.
It's cute in a weird crazy cat lady kinda way and I'll admit some of the sounds my husband makes when he's stampeded upon have bordered on freaking hilarious.  
The best part?
They don't even EAT the food I took up.  The just abandon theirs and follow me up like a bunch of hyperactive two year olds on speed.  
Then they proceed to jump on the bed, off the bed, on the bed, off the bed, on the bed until finally they're all curled up down the side of my body furthest from my husband.  Smart move on their part.  If they got close enough to him for him to get hold of them, we might not have sixteen cats in the house.
I've woken up in the middle of the night to find cats hanging by their front feet from the bamboo shades on the windows.
I've been awakened by things crashing to the floor.
I've been awakened by lamps being turned over.
I've been awakened by the sound of my daughter screaming at cats to vacate the waterbed.
I've been awakened by the unmistakable sound of a female in heat.(NOTE:  No coming down on me for having not spayed them, it's done now.)
Oddly the thing my husband complains about the most?
The sound of the little bits of cat food as they fall into the aluminum food bowl.
For your viewing pleasure, I present......cat herding.

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