When D bought this desk, it was with the intention that Moby would sit here. One of the rare times that this sort of plan-cooperation has worked out. A favorite perch, Moby gets to be close to D, and either watch him, or watch outside, occasionally be petted, always adored. Most satisfactory.
Gotten over my childish fit of "I don't wanna! It's HARD!" Yeah, well, poor me. I'm blaming hormones, a fair compromise. A bit more chocolate, and I'll be fine.
The story is stuck, again. Will try again tomorrow.
Which I have off work. My mid-week-weekend, these days.