Monkeys stole my lunch. And no, this is not like my knife where I just couldn’t find it, and then eventually did, and made up a story about monkeys stealing. This actually happened.
I was sitting on my sofa just thinking (we do that a lot in Peace Corps apparently. The Corps’ tagline should be, “Two years thinking while most likely sweating like you’ve never sweat before!”), and I hear a rustling. It sounds an awful lot like the plastic bag my carrot and tomato (yes, one carrot and one tomato) are in. At first though I thought I was imagining it. Then I hear it again and again. So I get up and walk into my kitchen.
And there are two monkeys sitting on my counter trying to open my bag. Of course they see me and bolt out my open door (I had left it open for air flow… see the sweating comment above). Do they leave the bag? No, they take it and make it over the 15 foot fence like it was a nothing. I think I heard them laughing as they went.
Needless to say, I successfully made a caramelized onion sandwich. It was also supposed to have carrot and tomato in it, but, well, apparently I have a monkey problem.