The boxes.... A long time ago, in a state far, far, away.... Just after we were married, (Feb, 1985) we moved into our first apartment. With the various stuff we had, we brought in a nice pile of boxes, which were quite neatly stacked in the dining room, and some in th eliving room. As there was very little other furniture, they were it. Anyway, one evening W came home from work to find her H surrounded (well, not quite literally) by boxes, quite calmly, and contentedly watching the TV. She blew a fuse, as the boxes were clearly bothering her more than they were bothering him. I don't think this fuse has ever been replaced. This event still appears now and then in the litany of horrid things this H has done to his W. (OK, that was a bit dramatic, but I'm feeling dramatic!)
