Beatrice the cat is in my lap. Can't go anywhere. Can't do anything. Help.
I made the mixture for some Chelsea Buns about two hours ago and it should be just about ready to roll out, add sultanas, and put in the oven right about now. But it's four metres away and the cat is in my lap.
About two minutes ago I felt a bit itchy but I couldn't scratch the bit that was itchy. The cat is in my lap.
If a door to door chocolate cake came and offered me a bite, I'd really like to take it up on that opportunity. But I won't and I can't. The door is two metres behind me. And the cat is in my lap.
I am starting to really need to go to the toilet. But the cat is in my lap.
Help.
UPDATE! - Now the cat is sitting on the Baron's lap and the laptop is sitting on my lap. FREEDOM.
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5 comments:
No need for occupation after all...
Maybe the Occupy Melbourne protests would have been more succesful if there'd been a few camp cats to win the Melbourne Council authorities over.
If the police came, they could sit in their laps, and they wouldn't be able to do anything. PROBLEM SOLVED.
I'm glad Beatrice got off your lap as the Chelsea bun looked great. Lovely to meet you @ The Dan today.
It was a great Dan session. New poems, new friends. See you next time!
PS Cat in lap again!
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