Some kind of blissful

No, I haven't found inner peace*, but I'm sitting here, at my monumentally cluttered desk, and it's not yet ridiculous o'clock in the morning** and I'm slowly typing one-handed because Tom is on my knees***, purring contentedly and smelling deliciously fluffy****. I still have a shitload of stuff to do*****, but sitting here with Tom, with the house so quiet and calm, really is some kind of blissful... Cats should be prescribed as medication for the terminally stressed.



* though we had printanière for dinner, so I guess I do have some inner peas...
** though beware of the "yet"
*** only just - he's what you would call a big cat
**** if you have a cat, you'll know the smell; if you don't I guess you'll just think I'm weird...
***** not helped by the fact that D didn't wake me up at 10 am as I asked him to in a note he says he read, but left me to wake up naturally at 2 pm (I know, even I'm kind of ashamed of this one) meaning I didn't get my translation finished till 4.30 (instead of 12.30 as I'd calculated), in turn meaning I didn't have time to go into town and send my last Christmas cards and do some Christmas shopping. All I had time to do was have a shower, get dressed and go get the girls from school. I was pretty mad, I have to admit, even if the long sleep undoubtedly did me good.