And You Wonder Why I Mention It So Often

Sometimes, this idiot...

... gets this door open (it's in the kitchen; more on this fugly later)...

... and spends the entire day up here:

...meaning the attic, in case some of you don't remember my post about the F.O. stairs.

It happened again this morning. I woke up, I put the coffee on, the door was closed. But when I went to get coffee, the door was open.

Shit!

I opened up the door and sure enough, there Dummo was.

"Ah'm up here, Momma! Looka me!"

Idiot.

So I shut the door, figuring in a few minutes he'd come back down. In a few minutes, I opened the door again.

"Ah'm up here, Momma! Looka me!"

Idiot!

So I shut the door again. And I dropped off Johnny, and I came back home, and I worked out and I wrote a bit and I went to work and came back home and wrote some more.

And then I noticed that the bread machine was still on the kitchen counter, where it's not supposed to be, so I opened up that attic door to put the bread machine on the shelf where it belongs and--

Shoom! Out comes Dummo Cat.

Oh crap! I left him up there all freaking day!

The problem -- which speaks volumes about the both of us -- is this:

I am less concerned about the fact that he spent nine hours in the frigid cold, than I am that the litter box was not the first place he went when he came down.

Crap! Shit! Defecation!

If you thought I had a fixation on such things before, we've got ourselves an attic-mission now.