Boxes

Putting things in a box.

Portions of daily life require it.

Schrodinger enjoyed boxes so much he was like a cat. Cats love playing in boxes. Schrodinger always wondered what the cat was doing in the box.

We put things in boxes so we can move them from place to place.

Things we want to sell go in a box.

We stack things when they’re in boxes. It’s especially helpful with items that by themselves would be unstackable, like beach balls, pinto beans, or cats.

Another thing to do with boxes is to put in items which you never want to see again. Here’s how it’s done. Take those pieces of your life you never want to see again, put them inside the box of choice, tie it, tape it, strap it shut, then take that box to an out of the way place, like an attic. Attics are basically box magnets. One is attracted to another. Attics seem to have been invented to collect boxes. Boxes just go there. No doubt about it.

Boxes are great for gift-giving. Not only can you not see what’s in there, but neither can the person to whom you’re giving the gift. It’s that whole dual state idea all over again: it could be a pile of money inside the box, or it could be a dead cat (yeah, that Schrodinger was one sick dude; speaking of Schrodinger, wasn’t it weird that his whole hangup was that he feared the quantum realm was having loads of fun until he happened to be looking its way, then it played dead?).

The world of child’s play can make 100 uses for boxes that adults haven’t thought of for decades, sometimes centuries. A pirate ship, a tank, an airplane, a spacious mansion, a gold mine, a racecar, a choo-choo train, a general store, a place to hide the green beans from dinner, a dollhouse, a swimming pool, a dance studio, the prop for many a magic trick, or even a hat. The ideas of childhood don’t stop there. They’re limitless.

Perhaps we even find the lost trinkets of our childhood in a box our mother made for us.

Of all the things she collected, why that?

How many of our everyday purchases are boxed? Most of them?

What if they weren’t?

Boxes surely make life better. And yes, boxes make Life better. Without the ever-present cardboard box, many of us would go hungry. Not that we eat the box, but that we eat what is inside it.

Sometimes boxes are transported via a vehicle known as a “box truck.” There’s poetry in that.

When you don’t have a sack lunch, you might be enjoying a box lunch.

And one more guy who liked boxes was a gentleman who went by the name Dr. Seuss. He imagined a fox in a box. No cats for the doctor. He preferred the fox for obvious reasons. Obvious, but I’ll tell you anyway—because they rhyme. That fox even had socks, which also rhymes. A fox might like the box for the same reason a cat does, but I wouldn’t know. Other than in books, I haven’t seen a fox in a box. I’ve seen many a cat in a box, and believe me, they are very much alive. You wouldn’t want to observe them (like Schrodinger wants us to), unless you like having your eyes scratched. That is to say, when you imagine Schrodinger’s boxed-up cat, you should imagine it leaping around in there, because that’s much closer to reality. The reality of a boxed-up fox would be poetic to say the least.

Anyway, Christmas is coming soon, as is Boxing Day. What will we find wrapped up in so many boxes?

Tinsel!

No, I’m just kidding. I don’t know what you will find. I hope it’s a great surprise.