Woke up Sunday in the grips of coughy, achy, wanna-put-a-bullet-in-my-head-sinus pain, which–despite sixteen hours of sleep–persisted. On the plus it’s a day off work. Possibly two, if my head keeps pounding like a train crossing a trestle.

Oedipus and Electra are freaking out in a big way. Plastic tarps cover most of the furniture; nearly all their escape hatches are blocked with ladders and tubs of spackle. Precise few respite options for them, really. Well, there is my bed, a cushy retreat where they have taken to huddling. And taking big swipes at my legs through the duvet. After seven years with much the same arrangement of furniture, it seems logical that a major change unnerves them so thoroughly.

Otherwise, it’s one big happy cat pile in this place.