This is me in a box. Why am I in a box and why do I look so haggered? Good questions. When you stare into a mirror intensely to see what you look like, all the imperfections seem to show. This is not an unhappy painting. It is not like I want to hide in a box or anything. However, I do have fond memories of making secret little play houses out of boxes as a kid. Occasionally my mom would arrange to have a refrigerator box delivered for our creative pleasure. Back then, those boxes seemed like a mansion and refrigerators were a lot smaller then they are now. I wonder if I could get an appliance delivery person to drop one off at my house? Sounds like a perfect grandkid activity. A box for one of those double doored monstrosities would make a good duplex. I admit it, I am as goofy as this self portrait portrays. Go Figure!
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