Togetherness...

Imagine, if you will, a couch (or sofa, davenport, divan, whatever it is you call your furniture). A standard size couch, with three cushions. The far right cushion holds the decorative pillows. The middle cushion contains the Nikester, covered by a blanket, and my knee and elbow.

The laptop sits atop a pillow on my knee. I'm sitting on the far left cushion, with Morgan on my lap, and Tara has managed to squish herself between me and the left arm of the couch. Nike's head is in my lap with Morgan, Morgan's head is on Tara, and I don't know where Tara's head is. In fact, I don't know if she can even breathe. I assume she's alive down there.

I'm using Nike's butt as my mouse pad. The ergonomics of this arrangment are clearly appalling, and I can't say it's really comfortable physically, but we are all happy.

Except my right foot. It's asleep.