I spent much of the morning answering e-mail and doing small victory dances. The cats are feeling festive, which means they keep getting on the counters, then fleeing when I run in, shaking my tiny fist.
And I splurged and had a cup of coffee, because c'mon, we don't take the House every day. Madness! One Democrat's slide into decadence has begun!
Ben's limping on one front foot. He did it for a little bit last night, then stopped, and now he's doing it again. I'll keep an eye on it--it's possible he just caught a claw or stubbed a toe or something, but if it's still happening tomorrow, I'll take him in to the vet to make sure he doesn't have something that needs to be treated. We are not yet on good enough terms for him to let me to palpitate his foot myself--I'd even be wary doing that of Athena, frankly, so I don't blame him. Cats generally don't like people screwing with their feet, and Loki's the only cat I've ever had where I would have gone blithely mauling his feet without fear of being mauled in turn.
Update: ...and five minutes later, he's fine again. Cats are so weird.