It's no secret that I'm not a morning person. I'm most productive in the evenings (hence the late hour of this post) and rarely make it to bed before midnight--even when the alarm is set to go off at 6:00 a.m. Last Tuesday, I was so proud of myself. I'd used my long weekend productively and was all set to be in bed at 11:00.
All I had to do was feed Soth his dinner.
Food tends to inspire mischief is Sothlice. When I first got him, he found the bag of cat food on the kitchen counter and used a claw to slice it open while I was gone. He was in Heaven. The cat food went into a tupperware and there were no problems--until one day he knocked it off the counter and the container split open. I found him huddled in the mess like a little troll guarding his treasures. The food went in another tupperware on top of the fridge, which he luckily hasn't found a way to get on top of yet.
Usually, I leave the tupperware on top of the fridge, reach in and grab a scoop, and put it in his bowl. But he still had a lot of wet food left, so instead of opening a new can for his dinner I decided to give him two scoops. I thought it would be easier to take the whole tupperware to his dish instead of going back and forth to get both scoops.
I'm not even sure what happened, but the next thing I knew, my kitchen looked like this:
There was also a pot on the stove that I was going to wash quickly after feeding Soth that ended up filled with food.
|Even under the burners in the stove!|
So, at midnight, I was cleaning my kitchen. I had to get out the vacuum because the hose was the only way I could think of to get the food out from beneath the burners. I'm sure my neighbors on the other side of the duplex loved me--hopefully they were actually fast asleep and didn't hear the vacuum in the middle of the night.
Barley was an excellent girl, though. She came to see what had happened, but I sent her to bed and she curled up in the bed while I cleaned. She didn't even try to help me. Eventually, I had gotten all of the big piles and it was all just little pieces that the broom refused to pull out from under the counters--so I called in the back up.
It's one thing when you can blame the mischief on the pets, but it's an entirely different story when you have no one but yourself to blame! What a mess!