So here's a thing; Nitty Kitty (the older of our two cats) is occasionally bulimic; she binges on kibbles then yacks them up. I always hope that this occurs on a hard floor - as she did when she was ill last night - and not a carpet or someone's (Sheadooooon..!) dropped clothing or schoolbooks.
So here's another thing; I've grown so inured to this cat-yacking that the night-sound of the furry pest horking up her chow no longer motivates me to get up and find the vile spew.
I figure what's done is done, and no worse will occur before morning. In the morning I drag my ass out of bed and go clean up the nasty eruption.
Unfortunately for me, our crew of sugar ants was much less lazy. The little bastards were all over the place this morning. Gah.
I'm not sure who to blame at this point, but I'm working on making it either the car or the ants rather than my own sloth.
However you look at it, it's still revolting.