I was tired after a long weekend of revelry in Vermont and the 4-hour drive home, so can you really blame me for not unpacking the cooler? There was nothing cool in it, just a pot, cans of Vernors and some dry goods I had taken up to make breakfasts and a dinner.
I figured it was safe, sitting on the floor near the kitchen, lid securely fastened, and off I went to work on Monday. What I came home to would have made somebody proud -- Harry Houdini maybe, or more likely Yogi Bear. The cooler lid was off and discarded like last week's squeaky toy. The lid of the pot was vehemently cast aside, and the macaroni and cheese and maple syrup sampler boxes both had teeth marks. The jar of cayenne pepper, which had been in the pot, escaped harm. But the ripped wrappers of instant oatmeal and long grain and wild rice lay nearby, limp and empty.
Just for kicks, I left the cooler in its spot, still with the cans of soda inside. On Tuesday, the lid was again on the floor next to it, but everything inside was intact. On Wednesday, Hathaway didn't bother with the cooler at all, and there it sits, lid untouched. Nearby though was the peel from the banana I had strategically left on the kitchen counter.
Our little game of outwit-the-pit continues ...