Being the daughter of an appliance repairman has its advantages.  First, your appliances always work.  Your uncles know how to get you to visit, they  just unplug their washers, say it doesn't work, and you get a nice visit, probably with some good music, and Aunt Marilyn's Devil's Food cookies.  You also get some of the world's best temporary playhouses.  Dryer and washer boxes make marvelous mansions complete with hand sawed (with a kitchen knife of course) windows and doors. 

However, the best use of those boxes was always... the camper.  Yep.  I had a lot of "Okie Campers" as a kid.  Dad would bring home a box, cut side doors (that could be opened or closed at my whim) on the sides, leave one end closed and the other open (to scramble out) and then line it with blankets and sleeping bags.  I had  books, snacks, and a flashlight. I sat in the back of that truck in my "camper" on trips to  Arizona or the desert so many times I can't count them. 

Back in that camper, I was alone in my own little world.  I sang.  I sang every song my dad sang and every song we sang at church.  I read.  I waved at children in cars as they drove past.  I made up stories in my mind.  I always knew someday I'd be a writer.  I was determined.  Sometimes I did hand games with string like cat's cradle and Jacob's ladder.  I had a Rubiks Cube and a long triangular thing that made a puzzle too.  I had  Merlin.  I loved playing with my Merlin.

Those campers were brilliant.  Much better than the "real deal".  I mean, think about it.  They were free, they didn't require maintenance, they were disposable, and no one ever thought to "Break into" a cardboard box.  Occasionally, we had to settle for a dryer box  but they weren't as nice.  They were too short and my feet got cold sometimes.

It was a wonderful life.