According to the little hotline, they don't need jurors today. So I woke up long enough to mumble something groggy and affectionate at the nice man who has to leave by 7:45 or thereabouts, and then went back to sleep for another hour or two.
Ben and Angus approved of this. For various unplanned logistical reasons, I had not actually slept at my place since last Friday, and Ben let it be known last night that he demanded more quality time, which in his case is defined as standing on my pillow grooming my eyebrows and purring thunderously, and then stomping back and forth across two bodies for part of the night, taking the opportunity to put a paw in any available bladder, spleen, genitals, or solar plexus. This is how Ben shows affection and extracts vengeance simultaneously.
Angus just creeps onto the bed, wedges himself against the back of someone's knees--it doesn't matter for his purposes who--and begins purring like a paint mixer. I don't feel bad about him, though--he likes me, he likes Kevin, but Ben is his first love, and as long as he has a big tabby butt to snuggle up against*, he's a happy camper.
Free of the civic sword of Damocles, I'm off to have lunch with Deb and then spend the afternoon in paintly pursuits.
*The tabby butt in question frequently gets up and stalks off. Angus, undaunted, follows until Ben lays down again, then attempts to cuddle up to him again. This drives Ben to all kinds of perches that are single-cat occupancy only, or would be, if Angus was a little less determined to use Ben's rear end as a pillow.