Kat has now decided that a particular spot on the sofa is Her Spot. It's unfortunate for A that he also thought it was his spot. Kat headbutts him and tries to scrabble underneath him until he moves out of the way, and then calmly curls up in the disputed territory and starts grooming. I laugh so hard. It's partly her insouciance, partly A's outrage, and partly the fact that he totally moves anyway because he's helpless in the face of her cuteness. He's now given up the fight, and sits elsewhere. We all know who wears the trousers in our house.

She recently found out how to get up onto the downstairs windowsill, and sits there all the time, watching the goings-on outside, like the Lady of Shalott except without the mirror. We put her "lawn" (a tray of wheatgrass we grew for her to chew on) up there to get some sunlight, the other day. Later, A found her stretched out in the sun, sound asleep on her lawn, one leg dangling over the edge. The wheatgrass was flattened, but she was a very happy kitty.

Dawwwwwwwwwwwwww.

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Running went badly, yesterday. I'd had a difficult day at work, and I was late leaving, and tired, and my mind wasn't in the right place... plus I was too hot, because I wore a hooded top so I could put my keys and phone in it. Anyhow, I managed 17 minutes of running, and just couldn't keep going (was supposed to be 25mins). I'll try again on Wednesday's session - if I can't do it then, then I'll repeat the week - but if Weds and Fri go okay, I'll carry on into Week 8 next week.

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Another SG-1 fic I'll never get around to writing: 'Life in the Upper Pleistocene', an elderly Sam and Daniel stranded far back in prehistory, sat on a hill overlooking their village, with the sun burning off the mist of a brand new day, contemplating the evolution of apples. Inspired by this picture and article.