You may have thought that you were going to read. Or knit. Or write. Or perhaps color or meditate.

But instead, your lap is chosen. You are the favored one, the lap of persistent affection.

You have the power to shove the cat off your lap, to stand up and go on about your day. But instead, you choose to sit. To breathe deeply (or, as is the case with me today, to recover from whatever virus-of-the week is causing you to cough and sneeze.)