Sorry it has taken me so long to post this story. You see, I have been running around the region trying to find someone who can repair the zipper on our picnic backpack. As you can see from the picture, the zipper has been ravaged, and not by a puppy as one might guess, but instead, by mice.
We were living in England when we got it and right after we purchased the picnic backpack and had used it exactly once, we stored it in the big closet we had. Shortly thereafter I went through one of my periodic cleaning frenzies. When I went to move the backpack, I noticed that the front flapped open. Upon closer inspection, I noticed it was all chewed up in several critical spots. Those included the top of the insulated back section (which fortunately they did not penetrate through-perhaps their teeth had been warn down to nubs by this point?) and the front zipper, in two places.
Let me just point out at the onset, there were several other zippers on this backpack, anyone of which we would have been much less irritated about had they been chewed. But no, these mice had to go for the gusto, they had to eat into the zipper of the pocket which holds together (when zippered up) all of the dishes, silverware, corkscrew, cuttingboard, cheese knife, table cloth and napkins which first attracted us to its efficient and yet complete features.
I just mention napkins above. That is because the set did originally come with napkins. One man’s napkins are another mouse’s bedding, apparently. As you can see from the picture, the napkins were shredded by the mice for bedding or for fun or for who the heck knows why? But the bottom line is that the napkins have been discarded to the rag pile and are no longer with the set. Curiously, the table cloth remained untouched. Perhaps the napkins were thought to be
more diminutive, like the mice themselves, and sort of like choosing twin size over king?
So, what do you do with a picnic set that you paid the equivalent of $120 US dollars for and which you used exactly once, which you can no longer carry around in one piece (and wasn’t that, after all, the whole point?) First you try emailing the American company, Concept, which made it and is based out of Colorado. Not exactly once, but several times, and receive no response. Then, when all else fails, you listen to your mother-in-law and find a cobbler (a man who fixes shoes, not a dessert, though the dessert in the end, would have been easier to find).
This is easier said than done. In our throw away world, cobblers are a breed which is rapidly going extinct and those that actually do luggage repairs, well, they may as well have put a cage around him and sold tickets, by the time I found him. He is a regional attraction that people need to drive miles to find. I had started off in my town, first trying a tailor, and then trying a shoe repair place (the more modern term for cobbler) and struck out at both places. I took the seamstress’ suggestion at the second place and tried the yellow pages. Yes, I let my fingers do the walking, and after talking to Fazio the cobbler/luggage repairer on the phone, I set off on the 22 minute drive to show him the backpack and see if he could fix it.
Eureka! While I haven’t gotten it back yet, he showed me how he could fix it and put a ¾ length zipper in its place that would still work but not open as wide. Luckily I had saved the little zipper grabber thing at the end, because it turns out he needed it. Even better, he will have it for me on Friday and for only fifteen dollars. On the scoreboard of life the score is now: Mice 1, (Wo)Men 1, and we won’t mention the napkins.
We were living in England when we got it and right after we purchased the picnic backpack and had used it exactly once, we stored it in the big closet we had. Shortly thereafter I went through one of my periodic cleaning frenzies. When I went to move the backpack, I noticed that the front flapped open. Upon closer inspection, I noticed it was all chewed up in several critical spots. Those included the top of the insulated back section (which fortunately they did not penetrate through-perhaps their teeth had been warn down to nubs by this point?) and the front zipper, in two places.
Let me just point out at the onset, there were several other zippers on this backpack, anyone of which we would have been much less irritated about had they been chewed. But no, these mice had to go for the gusto, they had to eat into the zipper of the pocket which holds together (when zippered up) all of the dishes, silverware, corkscrew, cuttingboard, cheese knife, table cloth and napkins which first attracted us to its efficient and yet complete features.
I just mention napkins above. That is because the set did originally come with napkins. One man’s napkins are another mouse’s bedding, apparently. As you can see from the picture, the napkins were shredded by the mice for bedding or for fun or for who the heck knows why? But the bottom line is that the napkins have been discarded to the rag pile and are no longer with the set. Curiously, the table cloth remained untouched. Perhaps the napkins were thought to be
more diminutive, like the mice themselves, and sort of like choosing twin size over king?So, what do you do with a picnic set that you paid the equivalent of $120 US dollars for and which you used exactly once, which you can no longer carry around in one piece (and wasn’t that, after all, the whole point?) First you try emailing the American company, Concept, which made it and is based out of Colorado. Not exactly once, but several times, and receive no response. Then, when all else fails, you listen to your mother-in-law and find a cobbler (a man who fixes shoes, not a dessert, though the dessert in the end, would have been easier to find).
This is easier said than done. In our throw away world, cobblers are a breed which is rapidly going extinct and those that actually do luggage repairs, well, they may as well have put a cage around him and sold tickets, by the time I found him. He is a regional attraction that people need to drive miles to find. I had started off in my town, first trying a tailor, and then trying a shoe repair place (the more modern term for cobbler) and struck out at both places. I took the seamstress’ suggestion at the second place and tried the yellow pages. Yes, I let my fingers do the walking, and after talking to Fazio the cobbler/luggage repairer on the phone, I set off on the 22 minute drive to show him the backpack and see if he could fix it.
Eureka! While I haven’t gotten it back yet, he showed me how he could fix it and put a ¾ length zipper in its place that would still work but not open as wide. Luckily I had saved the little zipper grabber thing at the end, because it turns out he needed it. Even better, he will have it for me on Friday and for only fifteen dollars. On the scoreboard of life the score is now: Mice 1, (Wo)Men 1, and we won’t mention the napkins.
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