Not Cleared for Rezoning
For a while now, I've wanted a dedicated writing space. I operate primarily on a laptop - sadly, my laptop is getting incredibly long in the tooth and, well, it's sometimes difficult to remain focused on a machine I use so often for enjoyment and with such easy access to the Internet.
We realized a couple of months ago that my husband's old desktop was still sitting around, so we pulled it out and set it up with a new monitor. We reclaimed a table in our tiny dining nook that had previously been used mainly by lounging cats, and I outfitted my new nook with the required writerly paraphernalia, from reference books to a Death Star Pez dispenser and "Don't Piss Off the Fairies" plaque to one of my favorite James Jean art prints. With the recent addition of an old computer chair donated by my close friend David, it's fantastic.
There's just been one hitch. One large, fuzzy hitch.
See, Tiger Jack doesn't believe the table was cleared for rezoning. He also believes that David brought the computer chair over especially for him, as the immediately ubiquitous orange tufts of fluff indicate. Thus, we've been having somewhat of a trying adjustment period.
This is what happens when I try to work:
Candid photo is dark! Sorry about that.
Tiger actually has several strategies. There's the insert-head-under-hand technique while I'm typing. There's the tump-in-front-of-the-keyboard, pictured above. Then there's the obstruct-the-mouse gambit, where he curls up on said mousepad, back to me and tail lashing. He also enjoys the let's-hide-the-screen, where he just stands in front of me, bumping me with his head and sniffing my face as I try to see around him. He tried a new one tonight: I was consulting a book I'm reviewing, when he reached one paw over my arm and began "digging" into the surface of the page. Sometimes, when none of these result in cuddles, he will try my favorite strategy: perch all Sphinx-like on the absolute edge of the desk, back to me and completely out of the way.
He engaged in every strategy in his book tonight, until I laughed and came in here to write this blog entry. I informed him very solemnly, however, "Don't go thinking you've won, Mr. Tiger Jack! This is merely a retreat, not a surrender."
He just kept purring and sniffed my keyboard, before reasserting his dominance over my comfy chair.
P.S. I should add that I often respond as the towering giant I am, picking him up bodily and putting him on the floor. He just keeps coming back, though. It's a game we play. -_-
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We realized a couple of months ago that my husband's old desktop was still sitting around, so we pulled it out and set it up with a new monitor. We reclaimed a table in our tiny dining nook that had previously been used mainly by lounging cats, and I outfitted my new nook with the required writerly paraphernalia, from reference books to a Death Star Pez dispenser and "Don't Piss Off the Fairies" plaque to one of my favorite James Jean art prints. With the recent addition of an old computer chair donated by my close friend David, it's fantastic.
There's just been one hitch. One large, fuzzy hitch.
See, Tiger Jack doesn't believe the table was cleared for rezoning. He also believes that David brought the computer chair over especially for him, as the immediately ubiquitous orange tufts of fluff indicate. Thus, we've been having somewhat of a trying adjustment period.
This is what happens when I try to work:
Candid photo is dark! Sorry about that.
Tiger actually has several strategies. There's the insert-head-under-hand technique while I'm typing. There's the tump-in-front-of-the-keyboard, pictured above. Then there's the obstruct-the-mouse gambit, where he curls up on said mousepad, back to me and tail lashing. He also enjoys the let's-hide-the-screen, where he just stands in front of me, bumping me with his head and sniffing my face as I try to see around him. He tried a new one tonight: I was consulting a book I'm reviewing, when he reached one paw over my arm and began "digging" into the surface of the page. Sometimes, when none of these result in cuddles, he will try my favorite strategy: perch all Sphinx-like on the absolute edge of the desk, back to me and completely out of the way.
He engaged in every strategy in his book tonight, until I laughed and came in here to write this blog entry. I informed him very solemnly, however, "Don't go thinking you've won, Mr. Tiger Jack! This is merely a retreat, not a surrender."
He just kept purring and sniffed my keyboard, before reasserting his dominance over my comfy chair.
P.S. I should add that I often respond as the towering giant I am, picking him up bodily and putting him on the floor. He just keeps coming back, though. It's a game we play. -_-
You can also read this entry on Dreamwidth, where there are currently
comments.