Emily wants to make up with me. She came by my desk to be petted, including her usual head butts; she even reached up to my chin with a velvet paw to stroke my chin.
Of course, an hour later the little witch swung at me again when I petted her. At least I am trying to keep my face out of range.
She has picked up a habit from the boys, or maybe she had it all along but never uses it in the summer. In any case, she's become a burrower, I think for warmth. She doesn't tunnel like the boys, but lumps at the edge of the blanket should be checked before sitting on them.