Paws of procrastination kept getting in my way the other night. I was up late working on a story at the foot of my bed with Clara the cat by my side. She kept swatting at my hands and walking all over my keyboard as I wrote, inserting typos and aklsjfklsdjfklsdjfldksjfsld neologisms into the story.
Everyone else seemed to be asleep as I wrote; my friends had signed off Gmail chat, Facebook and Twitter — sites I sign onto late at night to feel connected — and my neighbors’ lights were all off. So I liked having the company of my cat, her paw draped over my arm, her eyes half-closed, her purr as loud as a little motorboat. All the right ingredients for procrastination and distraction.
The motorboat eventually lost steam as Clara began to doze off. I kept writing and would stop every once in a while to take photos of her, trying not to get too distracted by her cuteness. The pictures are a good representation of what a typical night looks like when I’m up late writing, reading, etc.: