Holy Mother...

... Does someone want remind me why it is that I take in these poor death row destined cats? Other than because I'm an idiot. Clearly...

Garfield is a cluts. The biggest cluts I have ever encountered in my life. Seriously. His thumbs are obviously not doing him an ounce of good in the agility department like they're supposed to. Open drawers? Yes he can. Walk like a normal cat? Hells no. Out of 6 other cats they all can jump onto the fridge and up onto the top of the cupboards no problem. So far this week Garfield has managed to cause the following while attempting to get on the fridge:

* Jumped, grabbed edge of fridge, slipped, fell. Landing in the bowl of pancake mix I just made, splashing it everywhere and covering every conceivable item on said counter with freaking pancake mix.

* Jumped off counter onto top of fridge, landing on the rice crispy square container, knocking it off the fridge and shattering the lid on the floor.

*Jumped onto the top of the cupboards saw Mr. Pretties, got scared (He's terrified of Mr. Pretties...) and tried to run, in the process knocking over my antique bird house (knocking the door off), my enamelware bowls, my star topiary and then getting tangled up in the strand of mini lights I have there for the 'up lighting' effect.

*Jumped on cupboards knocking a bottle of black nail polish on the floor. Which shattered. And leaked black nail polish all over my white ceramic floor. This while I'm in the basement putting the LP's clothes in the dryer. I come up to find LP's painting apples with the freaking nail polish on the floor. Black apples people. The other two apples left in the house that were for the LP's snack at school tomorrow. Black floor, black apples, black hands, and little shards of glass everywhere. Oh, did I mention I'm out of nail polish remover? Perfect...

***Pippa, If You're Reading This - He's ALL Yours! I'll Have Him Packaged For Your Next Visit***

So again, why did I get myself into this? Why can't I just leave things alone? Oh wait, I know who's fault it is. The Little Voice. Maybe next time LV would like to zip their lip, especially since I can't very well make them clean up the pancake mix, broken Tupperware, knocked over decor and nail polish. Note to LV: I hate you. Go live in someone else's head and make them feel bad for everything. Maybe the nail polish fumes will fumigate it out. Or something. Ugh