However, when I got home, Chad pointed out that there was a small hole in the bottom of my camelbak.
Darn it. Some critter must have snuck up and marauded it while I stopped to have a snack, leaving a hole in the bag and nibbles on the emergency space blanket. I would have thought I would have noticed, and wasn't stopped for that long.
Oh, well. Time to Frankenstein-patch the bag. (Tried to use sewing machine, but it was just too close to the back stiffener to work well.)
One would think that was the end of it. I went to put the bag away.
Small shreddies everywhere under the wall where the backpacks are normally hung! Shiny shreddies, fabric shreddies, plastic shreddies, metal shreddies!
??? Where did those come from?
Do you see something wrong with Chad's Camelbak too?
Look more closely:
Uh oh. Maybe the evil critter was in our garage instead of the woods. Could it be cats?
No. Cats wouldn't chew through a plastic patch kit box.
Or into the tube of rubber cement for patching tires. Ick.
I would think the adjacent food in the pack would be more appealing, but the evil vermin apparently just wanted the rubber cement. I can understand why it didn't go for the disgusting macrobiotic vegan energy bar (inherited from a friend who decided they gave her migraines; now I'm stuck trying to eat them up), but the adjacent chocolate was also unmolested.
Silly rat. Picture it acrobatically scaling the wall and trapezing from pack to pack in order to eat the space blanket and a tube of rubber cement. Weird.
One hopes it crawled off and had a stomachache, never to return again, but I feel compelled to set a trap or two out. But wait--the cats go in the garage, so any trap has to be complusively-curious-feline-proof. Oh, that's hard. While procrastinating that task, I decided to cull things from the overstuffed black file cabinet in the bottom left of the photo above so that the towering stack of papers that needed to be put in it would fit.
Four hours later, I emerged from that project. What ever possessed me to save the complete set of Turbotax cd's from 1997 to the present? Why is it that every house transaction leaves you with a giant stack of things printed on legal-sized paper that doesn't fit anywhere? Ooooh -- the gory details of the move and corporate reimbursements from moving to AZ. How much of that detritus does one really need to keep? I culled heavily, but kindergarten report cards from 1976 are just too funny to throw out.
Still need to improvise cat-proof rat trap and fix one more pack...but it is time to make dinner. Ugh.
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