The temperature is supposed to get down to freezing tonight, for the first time in several weeks, and the outdoor feral cats have apparently secreted themselves in whatever least-cold spots they have available, because there is neither hide nor hair nor any other feline part of them to be found. Those allowed in the house are cozying up to furnace vents, but Portia is napping adjacent to my keyboard, making typing difficult.
Of course I'm still rather short of sleep and will soon crash, but I did manage to stay awake through some English murder reruns. That should keep me until tomorrow night's English murder rerun. Oh, and it was my birthday, but I didn't remember until the Internet told me. Internet knows more about me than I do. Life has gotten very strange.