...and they disappear.
She built that all by herself. I'm quite proud. As the husbeast and I say to each other, "Your DNA is showing." (In this case, I think she gets a double whammy of engineering DNA from both sides, poor kid.) When I walked into the living room and didn't see her, I called out, and she said 'here I am, Mumma' and I felt really dumb 'cause she was right in front of me.
Then I went for the camera.
Packing continues apace. We have discovered that a twelve-inch cube box, when COMPLETELY filled with hardcover, full-color printed books, weighs 45 pounds/20 kg. I am unable to lift them (or rather, probably could lift them, but I run a major risk of breaking my bad wrist, and hey! What a good way to make this move worse!) so the husbeast's been stacking them in the garage.
One more day of packing boxes (I've only got four book-boxes left, that gives me courage to go on), packing crates, and Rubbermaid ten-gallon (40 liter) containers, and then we're off to Ohio to fill up the in-laws' garage and basement.
Sekhmet has recovered what sanity she has, after last night's lick-fest. She never suffers any ill effects from her love-in with the menthol stickies. Just temporary insanity. She's never interested in the stickies until they go on my arm, so some of you may be right; maybe she's trying to free me. She hates stickers in her fur, maybe she's trying to help me out.
Or maybe she's just raving mad. Furry eyelids and hair between your toes would make you nuts, too.