A rather common stereotype is the writer surrounded by cats. I confess I am well on the way to personifying this cliche. I have but one cat, Chenna, yet for all the trouble she gives me she might as well be three.
Right at this moment, she has decided she needs to sit on my lap. Usually at this time of the morning, I feed her and she demands more food, so I feed her again and then she goes to sleep on her cushion.
Not today. This morning she wants to epitomise the writer's cat and be "company". This morning she has cajoled and wheedled and wormed her way onto my lap.
Believe it or not, such a circumstance might be pleasantly warm and companionable, but it's not all that conducive to productivity. For one thing, I have to sit further away from my desk and now I'm having trouble actually reading the screen -- not to mention reaching the keyboard.
Perhaps that's her grand plan: distract me from the true mission so I can pay attention to her! She's just as likely to swipe me or bite my wrist, as sleep . . .