As Whitey was exploring my desk this morning, the sun happened to hit the monitor when it was mostly black, and this pointed up how poorly I've cleaned it in the ten months I've had it. It was bad, really bad, immediately grab old soft t-shirt and spray bottle of water bad.
Which led to a lesson on how smart Whitey really is. The bottle I grabbed is normally referred to as the Mist of Doom, and when merely pointed at one of the boys can it send them fleeing from the scene of a crime. This morning however, parked on the Silver Kitten Warmer, Whitey clearly respected the Mist of Doom but was quite unafraid -- he probably read my body language and realized I wasn't hunting errant kittens today.
How comfortable was he? As soon as the monitor was clean and I started writing this post, he helped write. (That's the middle of this post on the screen above his head.)
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