can't index, cat's sitting on it

Note moody backlighting (accidental). She has her little kitty butt firmly parked on an Angela Carter chapter rife with red annotations, scribbled indexing terms and plaintive notes in the margins. ("Feminism? Patriarchy? Gender? aaargh!") She looks a bit bemused because the nice man was busy tuning the piano, with the concomitant plinks and plunks, at the moment the photo was taken. I don't think Golux is musical, so to speak. Also, apparently I have a very loud piano. I'd take up the piano tuner's offer of the muffling practice rail, but that would be pandering to my Evil Landlord's avowed dislike of piano, which is strictly against my most dearly-held principles.

In addition to having the piano tuned, must take advantage of this week at home to have the cats tuned, too. Well, shot. Checked. Whatever.

Sid update: faint but pursuing. I still feel sick, and eating anything other than pale, quiet food causes gastric rumblings. Nonetheless, indexindexindex.