I can't think too much about what the cats are doing when I'm at work. They outnumber me four to one. It's like leaving four teenagers home alone. The news at the end of the day is never good. This is what my monitor looked like when I got home. Maybe they were working on their tax returns. But I'm worried about the Windows Diagnostic message.
Further evidence? I may be careless in many areas of my life, but I'm in awe of the friend who takes care of my computer. I don't spill stuff on the keyboard.
White has a reputation for sleeping on my desk. But I haven't seen him do it in a long time. This picture is from 2007.
The current suspect in the keyboard caper is Magda, who's been pretty weird lately. I've spent a fair amount of time trying to create special places for the cats: cushions, boxes, blankets, old t-shirts - all in an effort to keep cat hair off the furniture and my clothes. No luck. Magda insists on grooming on my treadmill and sleeping on my charger station.