So I get up this morning and first thing go into the bathroom to check on the kittens and yanno, pee. I do not do mornings well at best and do not handle first thing emergencies well At. All. I’m barely conscious and the brain synapses do not fire. They just kinda sputter until caffeine.

Kittens learned to escape the bathtub within about 48 hours so not finding them in the tub was not a surprise. Only finding one kitten in the bathroom (equivalent space of a smallish walk-in closet) was enough to set off my panic bells. OMG! Where’s the princess? OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG… I was freaking out. They like to snuggle in behind the toilet… no kitten… I’m about ready to tear out the vanity… no kitten!

Heart pounding and in full-fledged freak-out I sat on the john, clutching Little Lord Storm with my brain screaming “what am I gonna do?!!! where’s the kitten?!”, glanced to my left and saw at eye-level this:

what

She was 6 weeks old yesterday. How the fuck did she get up there?

I’m gonna have to get used to this, aren’t I.