The Ancient One has been deliberately forcing me to check that she is still breathing for the last two days by deciding to abandon her mortal form and stretch out like Hazel-Rah at the end of Watership Down on the floor and lay there unmoving until I get close enough to see her lungs are still working perfectly.
The Very Special One has been mimicking her position almost perfectly at a distance of 3-5 foot in all planes of motion (that's her personal No Fly Zone where he's concerned, although she'd probably rather have one of 3-5 miles when he wants to be her friend).
Neither of them have moved since about 7am, other than VSO shifting in disgust because some sunshine landed on his foot for about an hour, forcing him to relocate eight inches to the left on the rug and TAO has flipped from her left side to her right and back again.
Should I mention that they are both in direct line of the column fan? They've also decided that they're not really terrified of thunderstorms, as they've both slept through a sadly all too short cloudburst that has reduced the ambient temperature from 31 Celsius to 28 in here.
I would be concerned, especially for The Ancient One, except for the fact that she decided my morning visit to the bathroom needed to be a communal thing and I can definitely say that
a) the sneaky fucker is drinking from the cat fountain when we aren't looking (not seen her use it once in two and a half years)
b) there is bugger all wrong with her kidneys or urinary tract.
Oooh, we might be approaching the Witching Hour. TAO has mewled at me pathetically for daring to shift my foot and is now slowly washing an ear. Not a bean from VSO, though. He's still very happily on his backpack bed.
Stand down, stand down. The Ancient One has gone back to sleep.