I’m officially overloaded with work obligations and writing tasks. As I sit at my computer, I become annoyed by my cat, Louie Von Whiskers, who knows the exact moment when I start to type on my keyboard.
This crazy cat believes that my computer work signals his need to nap across the keyboard. I push him down onto the carpet, and he jumps right back on top of the computer–audacious, insistent, and. . . adorable.
“OK, you kitty,” I say. I take him in my arms, and he immediately curls up into a soft ball. Purring loudly, he stays put, and when I try to lean over to type, he actually puts a paw on my arm to restrain me. So I’m stuck here, holding this ball of fur.
I do have one hand free. Can I type with this one hand? Not really. But I can reach for my hot cup of tea that I’d forgotten I’d made. 
Here I sit, cup of tea in one hand, purring cat on my lap. I think God gave me this cat to make me take a minute–a non-productive minute–to do nothing at all.
I find myself so refreshed that I have to wonder what other non-productive minutes I might take today. More tea? More snuggling with animals? What if I listened to a new song or gazed out the back window?
It can’t all be work in 2011. Imagine a cat sleeps on your lap and you can’t move at all. You have no choice but to lean back, drink your tea, and enjoy yourself for a minute.
