...generally don't go together.
I should explain.
Being a passionate ailurophile, there is nothing I like more than curling up with a good book and a purring Mimi on my lap. There is nothing I like more than having her around, with her affectionate nature, big green eyes and soft tortoiseshell fur. 99% of the time, she is the loveliest cat you could ever wish to have - except when I'm trying to write.
It is then that she attempts to convince me - by fair means and not-so-fair - that giving her chin a tickle, stroking her and preferably accompanying all this with an afternoon snack, is far more important than finishing that chapter I am desperate to complete.
It all starts innocently enough. Mimi jumps up on the table next to me and purrs with a decible level roughly equivalent to a Harley Davidson. I type on. Next comes the head-butting as she nudges against my left arm, invariably resulting in a major typo and exasperated cry of "Mimi!". She usually answers this with a chirruping miaou somewhat swallowed in the continuing purr. I type on. Then she places a tentative paw on my desk, perilously close to the keyboard. "Mimi", I warn and she may remove it. Momentarily. I type on.
A few minutes pass while I can almost hear the whirring of a thousand furry thoughts as she hatches a plot for final victory. I type on.
Then, without warning, a furry body inserts itself between me and the keyboard. "Mimi!" I cry as the page scrolls up faster than the lift on the Donauturm (and that's pretty fast!). Gibberish spews out over the page.
A serious and determined furry face turns towards me. "Mrrroowww!" she says.