I'm lounging on the bed, reading Sagan and slowly eating pita and hummus on a plate in front of the book. There's medieval music on the radio lilting softly and on the side board are a few lit tea lights, some juice, and the remains of my most recent cup of tea.
Chani, the near siamese kitty who also lives here, had, a few minutes before, come skittering around the corner of the bed at almost full speed (for no obvious reason, of course), but I hadn't heard anything from her in a couple pages. I was not surprised when she landed on the bed quite close to my head and the plate.
I was a bit surprised how fast she jumped back down (fell right back off) from the bed, perhaps after catching a whiff of the garlic and tahini (?) in the hummus. I called, in a friendly tone, to her retreating form:
"You don't like most of my food! That's part of how we get along so well."
She was sitting on the floor next to desk when I came over to post this, and has since hurried downstairs. Urgent kitty business, no doubt...