Apocryphal architecture

Yep, so there I was, lazing in front of the tv watching one of those quest movies where the heroes inevitably end up in some deviously designed building of doom, and I just had to wonder....
Is there a special school of architecture out there?!?

I mean, your average builder of ancient temples, monuments and palaces obviously had a fairly good grip on basic arithmetic, the concept of solid foundations and so-on, but there seems to have been a very specialised branch of builders out there. Who else would design these grand and imposing buildings dotted around in hidden cracks and valleys just loaded with treasure. Can you imagine the list of building materials? And the cost of transport to these hidden nooks and crannies? No wonder only insanely rich megalomaniacs could afford them. Speaking of which, I'd love to know what polish they used: x-hundred amount of years later, and the precious metals are still gleaming like they've just been buffed!

And then of course, there are the traps. No secret structure would be complete without the obligatory pit of stakes, crushing walls or poison darts. Not only must the architecture have factored in a cunningly twisted route to the treasure room, but also line it with hair-trigger traps that will spring as effectively as the day it was set after years of accumulated dust, rust and insect infestations. You have to admire those guys! And wonder if they practise on their own humble homes. Which might explain why we know nothing about them; any visitor may be prone to disappearing down a bottomless shaft hidden by the welcome mat. That is if you can even find their humble abodes.

For some reason I have this persistent mental image of a newly completed temple, traps all set with hordes of well-trained spiders spinning webs in the passages (not on the treasure, ~not~ on the treasure...bad spider!). Just there, a small unassuming figure with a pencil behind the ear is carefully backing out of the main entrance, the last trap has been set and he can't help the pleased smile as he surveys his handiwork. And then the smile droops ever so slightly as he realizes that he left his lunchbox ~somewhere~ in there. Not sure what would be worse; having a future adventurer discover the incongruous object or having to explain to Mrs Architect why he'd come home without it, our anonymous little architect looks around furtively. Sure that no-one else is around, he scuttles around the side to a small door hidden by a cunning design, marked 'staff only'.

If only heroes would spend 5 minutes looking around before dashing in the front door, they might spare themselves a world of trap-dodging.

Gardening with a quantum cat

If anyone had told me a few years ago that I would enjoy gardening, I would've laughed in their faces. Don't get me wrong, I love nature and grew up in a family that loves gardening. The bug (ha-ha) just never bit me.
Until I became the owner of own patch of earth that is. Now I enjoy scrabbling around in the dirt on all fours, marvelling at the fantastic way in which plants never seem to grow when you watch them closely, and yet one morning you'll wake up and realise a tree is suddenly bigger by quite a few inches.
Perhaps science can explain this strange phenomenon; I certainly can't. You'll watch a clear patch of ground for days, and there'll be no sign of any weeds. Then *poof* all of a sudden a luxurious carpet of unwanted growth springs up virtually overnight. I always thought the time-lapse photography of plants growing was magic... now I believe it is!
Either that or something quantum.
Which explains the attraction my cats have to the garden. No, no, not in the 'depositing parcels' sense, but rather as a playground where they can exercise their own quantum skills.
Take Fatcat for instance (not her official name of course, but then show me any cat that is called by it's given name(s) unless it is being accused of some crime! Hieronymous Kittypuss Fluffyshanks the III, ~what~ is this decapitated mouse doing on my carpet!!! What do you mean historical re-enactment of Marie-Antoinette?!?)
Er, where was I headed? Oh yes, Fatcat...
She is the unofficial feline supervisor in charge of all landscaping activities. Which boils down to appearing in exactly the spot I want to weed. This may not sound as impressive, until you actually watch the scenario unfold.
There I'll be, intent on waging my own private war with the undesirable sprouts from hell while Fatcat loiters nearby. I'll keep an eye on her, shuffling along on my knees with a rapidly filling bucket in tow. I'll pull out a rather stubborn example of weed-dom, deposit it in the bucket and turn back to find that without apparently moving, Fatcat has now materialised on top of the very next patch of weeds.
Helpful cat, I know! Except when she has to move off the weeds so I can get to them. I've resorted to weeding around her in a threatening manner, but she just gives me a lazy yellow-eyed stare and sticks like to her spot like a burr on a blanket. Quite a daring move (or absence of) on her part considering the reputation for gardening-related injuries I've managed to inflict on myself.
I haven't tried levering her off with a spade yet, as by the time I've trekked to the garden shed and back, she will have become either a wave or a particle and vanished.
Until I work my way into another section of the garden again.
Pull weed. Watch cat behind me. Deposit weed in bucket. Look at next weed to find fluffy cat bum instead.
Pure magic I tell you! Or quantum physics.
Probably amounts to the same thing!