cimorene

tea is extra-cuddly this morning. it was too bad i had to get up and sit down again, which seems to have upset her mightily.

but now she seems to be back, and because i'm sitting cross-legged she's crouched with the front half on one thigh and the back on the other. she makes an inquisitive noise when i type. don't worry, tea. i won't pick you up by the armpits and swing you through the air cackling maniacally. at least not when you're already sitting on my lap.

i am so in love with this (highlander) methos stuff that it's not funny. what it actually is is baffling. the canon is bad. and it's the kind of show that makes me want to beat my head and several of the principal characters repeatedly into the wall, the kind where i'm yelling at the screen (a bad habit absorbed from my mother, probably in the womb) (as mace, chi, emma etc can attest, probably to their chagrin). so why? it's probably one of those pesky things with archetypes. and when mac's given a makeover to some reasonable level of intelligence with a lower quotient of obnoxosity--and smaller eyebrows/pompadour--he's palatable, and the premise is fascinating and methos is a wonderful character. but. huh.

eta: HAHAHAH tea had to get up out of my lap to sniff the screen where this animated icon was. she's purring now and... licking the desk? i've probably mentioned that as cats go, she's not the most well-balanced... arrow in the sling.