After a too long break from writing anything new (as opposed to cutting up and polishing bits of previously written stuff), I sat down this morning to do a little research on the programs of study at the CofC. One of the characters is matriculating there and I realized that I know nothing about what he hopes to become, other than free of his current responsibilities.
But this is how research goes in my household. I sit down, I have my cup 'o coffee at hand. I plug in to Google. There is a soft tapping at the side of my leg. It is Sutu, asking in his ever so polite way if he might be of assistance. Sutu does not lay down in my lap. He sits up, leaning back against my chest so that I have to look either left or right around his head to see the screen.
Suddenly, Thor lands in the center of the keyboard, sending my search to some random website which will probably land me on the Homeland Security watch list. (Honest, it was the kitten!) Sutu leaps straight up then out, his tail catching the side of the coffee cup which I grab for before it sloshes all over the keyboard. Thor walks off the keyboard on to my lap where he does not curl up sweetly. No, Thor must lie sideways, one hind foot pressed in to my sternum, one front paw hooked in to my forearm, and his head sideways off the chair, through the arm. I am expected to position my arms to support him in this preferred state of being. Problem is, I can't type at the same time. So I turn him. He nibbles. He stretches out again, so I push him throught the arm of the chair on to the floor. He hops up on the desk and tries to knock over the coffee. Repeat as often as necessary for him to get bored.
I go toss out my cold coffee, return to the computer, find the webpage I was looking at and begin again. A faint sqeaking noise is all the warning I get before Loki (all ELEVEN pounds of him - I weighed him last night) lands on my lap. Now Loki will curl up in a nice warm purring ball of fur perfectly balanced in the center of my lap. I continue on with my work. Then Loki decides that he would really be much happier if only he could be licking my thumb. So he reaches out, hooks his claws in to the meat of my left hand and pulls it toward him. I very politely tell him that I need that hand to type with. Loki is, if anything, accomodating, he allows me to put my hand back on the keyboard. Then he crawls up and lays across the board to lick my thumb.
I need a door for this room.