Ah, irony

[desperance]

The house is warm, and the boys despise me for it, they dismiss me: they have no notion that I am to be thanked and adored for turning on the heating. They have migrated instantly away from my lap, to those curious corners that are The Warmest Places In The House When The Heating's On, discovered by long experiment, retained somehow in their tiny brains through all the months when the heating is not on and they might after all be lapcats.

It takes them about ten minutes, to make the change.

Me, I am not so flexible. I sit here and miss all the awkwardness of a furry weight in my lap, and wonder just where the devil they are...