I dugged an hole

DSCN1751, originally uploaded by extemporanea.

Our back courtyard is currently making me think irresistibly of the random NPC peasant from one ofegadfly's games lo these many years, if not decades, ago, who came up with the immortal pearl of syntax in my subject line after being pressganged into digging, IIRC, graves for the party after a particularly successful combat. (In fact, it may have been for the red herring fast courier guy who we accidentally killed after making him fall off his horse.) At any rate: holes. Lots of holes. Lots of deep, dangerous holes into which the cats peer with fascinated horror. (They're all very clingy at the moment, there's usually a full set within a 10m radius of the pink blobs. It's going to get worse tomorrow when the electrician starts cutting channels in the walls: up until now all the landscape-rearranging has been outside, which I think has been quite alarming enough for feline territorial urges).

In addition to the back, the Army of Reconstruction has ripped up the front patio. Before and After:



I have been forced to conclude that either Hobbit really is a ridiculously hyper-friendly people-cat, or he's a slut for the camera. Every time I try to take a photo, there he is.