Friday, April 27, 2012
BOXES WITHIN BOXES
I acquired a new box today. Lovely big one, sturdy. I took it out to the garage and was delighted to find that I could put two other boxes that were out there into it, nesting comfortably. Room for more, but they would have to be increasingly smaller – squashing is not an option. A squashed box is no use at all.
I couldn't put them up into the garage roof because the other day when I was rummaging about up there I discovered a box marked "boxes and plastic cartons". They must have been there for years. I had a quick look. Shoe boxes mostly, and loads of ice cream containers, some with lids, and a few screw-top plastic jars that had once held honey and peanut butter. They were piled into the ice cream containers, and it was great to know that they were there. So useful.
Whaddaya mean, hoarder? Certainly not. Except for stationery, that I admit. I can't walk past a special on reams of copy paper without buying a few. There have been as many as twelve reams stored in my stationery cupboard but even I agree that's too many. I don't let the stock go down too far though. That's hardly hoarding, I'm a writer, I need paper. Of all kinds, like scribble pads and notebooks and jotters handy to the La-z-boy for when I have a stray thought. Yes I know, with computers there's not so much call for actual writing, with a pen ... ah yes, pens. I have quite a number of pens too, from the fat Mont Blanc that guzzles real ink to the el cheapo ballpoints with other people's logos on them. Where do they come from?
No, I'm not a hoarder. You can walk around the house and see no clutter – none at all. But boxes contain things, so they're handy to have around. In my so-called office there is a high cupboard which is a real treasure trove. Box files, old wine boxes, and boxes that things came in, all sizes. The bigger boxes have little boxes inside them. That's what boxes are for – to put things in. You never know when you might need a good box.
The painting is "Lost"