the box box

Don't ask me what I was thinking ya'll, but once upon a time I collected boxes.  Each of them was unique, unless they came in a nest which they tend to do, especially at the dollar store..  Over the years kids drag them over to somebody's house and the dog chews one up.  Nothing is forever, least of all collectibles.  I treasure every single piece of post WWII fabric and every stick of antique furniture because they are relics of my upbringing, little pieces of memory that provide comfort.  Add a candle to it and you've got atmosphere!

It was Monday, all day long at the sawmill.  The sun wasn't even up when I pulled up next to the rail and jumped out of dragged my old tired ass out of the trusty Camry with two hubcaps, two almost flat tires and never more than a quarter tank of gas.  I had a good weekend so it took until 2PM for me to wear out.  It's amazing what restful sleep will do for a body.

Most of the boxes are in piles now, waiting to be put into another box until they get to wherever they end up.  At this point in time, I don't have a clue.  But I'm sure that Big Ernie does.

Ya'll say your prayers and call your momma.

^j^