The weekend again. We are perched at a table in Panera for our normal Saturday morning writing session. I finally have a music player that I like. My beloved Zen was stolen back in the summer (bastards!), and we just now replaced it with an Archos tablet. It has great sound, and now I can write at Panera in peace. I love the atmosphere here, but it is quite noisy. The beeping and whirring of the kitchen equipment is outpaced in annoyance only by the muzak. The morning muzak is fine -- soothing classical and borderline Renaissance fare -- but once they hit lunch, they change stations to Muzak jazz filled with saxophones -- and not the cool E Street Band kind of sax, either but the really whiny stuff that winds on ad nauseum -- and they jack the volume all the way up. I'd rather curl up with my Train and Def Leppard and type my fingers off.
Yesterday, the Feline Overlords decided that Catterday would be a day early. I was at the bathroom sink, bent over to look into a mirror, minding my own business, when Cassie jumped up on the counter and sauntered over to me. She jumped onto my back and sat there. I was bent over at close to a 90 degree angle, so I was a fairly stable surface at the time. Knowing how she locks on to unstable surfaces, I remained as I was until I finished examining my eyebrows. In the meantime, she proceeded up my back and perched on my head. I now had a cat hat. Remembering the Clawing Propensity, I had to proceed carefully. Remaining bent over, I shuffled back into the bedroom, cat on head. I slid onto the bed onto my belly and finally straightened out, never raising my head in the process. The hat decided that this was a pleasant turn of events and walked to the small of my back and curled up for a nap. Score One for the kitties. I know when I'm defeated.