The Mummy Box
I’ve been living here 7 weeks now. Pete still hasn’t thrown me back on the train, and the mummies are still in a box. It’s sad really. For a long time they’ve been in my face…constantly. Now, they are tight and cozy in a box, in a barn, with a breathing hole. I had only just recently discovered that the movers had provided a breathing hole for them. Two in fact. In retrospect, I’m glad I tipped those movers well. I do go in the barn on occasion to check in on the mummy box. Though they are in a box, they are in a nice, dry barn where it is pleasantly dark. I imagine that they spend the time slumbering and whispering. And if you think that is an odd thought, I had a friend who once told me of a dream she had where she was sitting down and having coffee and chatting with them. They can be very friendly like that. Poor mummies, poor box mummies. We’ll get you out of there soon.