Of course, we are doomed. Cats.

I walk into the bathroom. Our cat Nicky is lying on the floor, on the bathmat, with his paws stuck under the space heater. It's a radiator-shaped space heater, and he does this with our radiators, paws stuck underneath with his head tilted back so his chin is facing the heater but not touching so he doesn't get burned.

We haven't turned the heat on in the house yet, and I haven't used the space heater in a couple weeks. If it's a really cold morning, I turn on the space heater before we shower, and turn it off again after we're dressed. It hasn't been cold enough to make that worthwhile for a while now.

"Nicky. That's not going to help. The space heater's not ... wait, what?"

The space heater is warm.

The switch is flipped. It's on. It WASN'T on this morning -- I'm sure, because I moved it around.

I think our boy has figured out how to turn on the space heater in the bathroom.

Doomed. We are doomed.