Conversations I'd rather not have begun.

"Was it you who took my last dumpling, or was it one of the cats?"

Resembles being too tired.

One of these days I'll learn how to recognise when people aren't actually going to hear what I'm trying to say and stop trying to argue with them. Sometimes I can do this ahead of time -- I failed to post something to alt.callahans earlier today because I could tell that the person I would have responded to wouldn't hear me, and it would just embroil me in another pointless argument. (And polyamory is giving me enough pointless arguments right now.)

And I can do it with particular people. I can not wind up in a fight with a Certain Someone when that favorite old chestnut "Those wicked polyfolk who keep saying that it's not about sex are just pandering to a sex-negative culture!" gets trotted out yet again. I've had that argument before, with that person as well as with others, several times.

Bleh.

Polyamory isn't about sex. It's not about having one's needs met. It's not about outgrowing swingings. It's not about enlightenment. It's not about sacred sex. It's not about world change. It's not about a lack of commitment. It's not about a superfluity of commitment. It's not about kink. Individual polyfolk may have practices that have to do with any of those things. But none of them are what polyamory is "about".

For me, polyamory isn't "about" anything.

. . . though it seems to be a source of endless argument with someone who is quite bound to tell me that I'm either lying or deluded about myself.

Clearly, my wisdom isn't mature enough, because I'm not too tired to argue.

Cats, redux.

teinedreugan and I have two cats. Lennon, known in some parts of usenet as "the smart cat", is largely his; Arthur, known in some parts of usenet as "the stupid cat", is largely mine.

It is important for the context of this story to note that when the boys were kittens, we lived in an apartment with doors that didn't latch consistently well. Arthur learned that if he charged doors, lifted up, and smash them with his entire miniscule weight they would open. Even after he gained an order of magnitude of mass, he kept this habit up.

It is also important for the context of this story to note that Arthur has an orifice obsession; any narrow space he will try to get into. He gets bitten on the nose occasionally when he investigates yawns.

Both cats consider it important to Supervise Activity in the Bathroom. I turned on the shower, and both of them appeared promptly in the hallway. "Hello, boys," I said; I leaned on the door, which was about two cat-widths open. Lennon took that as an invitation, wound around the corner, through the door, and into the bathroom to take up his supervisory role.

"Hello, Arthur," I said, then. Arthur wandered forward and -- well, he didn't tackle the door. He did, however, ignore that it was open two cat-widths, and reach up with one forepaw to give it a shove. The door pressed gently into my cheek, and as he started to step forward returned to its original position. He stopped. He gave the door a shove with one forepaw. It pressed into my cheek, he leaned forward, it returned. We have demonstrated a simple spring.

We played with the simple spring for six or eight iterations. Eventually he gave up, or I said something, I forget which. He slipped through the door, and proceeded on into the bathroom by squeezing between my ankles.

Cats.