I played in a box last weekend. There it was, sitting large and empty in my living room. A childlike curiosity overcame me as I thought: “I bet I could fit inside that.” And so I, a man well into adulthood at 27 years old, climbed on in. And it was fun!
What leads a person my age to indulge in such a childish compulsion? The situation had begun with mature enough intentions. I set off with the woman I am married to, in the car that we lease, to buy a new barbeque for the home we have a mortgage on. Every aspect of the endeavour was characteristic of an adult lifestyle.
Yet, when it came time to dismantle the packaging of our new purchase, I found myself wearing it like a giant cardboard turtle shell as I chased our pets across the floor. My wife soon hopped in with me, the both of us wedged together laughing while our dog wriggled through our tangled limbs. Continue reading “Man in a Box”