YOU ARE DISAPPOINTING YOUR CAT

Got out the last round of edits to Shell Game today, which meant I could finally get back to researching drought-tolerant crops and human mutations, in preparation for Mission the Next.  Of course, all this relentless productivity has me kind of chained to my computer for twelve hours at a time.

How does my roommate Buckminster, AKA The Management, feel about all this?

In a word, unimpressed.

I do not neglect my cat for the computer, I promise you.  One aggravated "Mew" from the other room and I am flying catwards to administer worship.  But Buckminster does not like waiting, not even for the length of time it takes for me to launch myself across the apartment at full speed.  And I can't just play with her before I start working, because all play-related activities (including laser tag and her all time favourite, "The Bengal Tiger and the Mystical Flying Doom-mice") happen only when Buckminster is good and ready.  Dangle a catnip toy in her face if her inner feline rhythms have not reached the play cycle, and she'll be all:

I have a feeling that I'm going to see "Can do better, must try harder" in my next performance review.