In the moments between doing things I must do I like to do nothing now. I used to like doing something in those moments but something no longer appeals to me as strongly as it once did. I may at long last have fallen under the spell of the cat. I have suspected her of wanting not to be the only lazy one in the house. Sometimes I catch her looking at me in a manner that could be interpreted as hypnotic. That's when she's planting the thought I think. Then I think the thought she's planted and nothing becomes more attractive than almost anything. Thus my free time slips away in idleness. This I suspect is why the ambitious Victorians who'd set about conquering the world kept their cats outdoors. Once you let the cats in the house it's only a matter of time before your civilization will collapse. We'll soon be going the way of the Egyptians. My bad, I guess.