The Twinkie Factor

I am happy to announce that I did not die in my box.

In fact, I am now self-proclaiming myself as an expert of sleeping in cold weather in cardboard. (I would never claim to be THE leading expert because it's such a competitive field.) My box was nothing short of toasty. I went inside the box about midnight. I fell asleep in about ten minutes and slept straight through until 6:30. Not only was I warm, but I was quite cozy.

The box's strength was "The Twinkie Factor," as I like to call it. The box was wide but shallow. I taped pink home insulation to the inside walls. I slid my couch cushions inside. And then on either side of the cushions, I filled in the gaps with blankets. I slid into my sleeping bag on top of the cushions and locked the door with a screw and bolt. I then put a rolled-up sheet against the door. So basically, the box was stuffed with warm blankets and cushions--with me shoved into the middle. I was the twinkie's cream filling: Pasty, sweet and delightful. And very, very warm.

No, I couldn't move much in my Twinkie box. And when I woke Sunday morning, I slithered out much I was being born. But that's a small price to pay for staying warm in 35 degree weather.

PTOIT SPECIAL FEATURE: DREAM LOG!
(October 10, 2006)
I was running a marathon--inside a high school while it was in session. There were a lot of people in the halls and it made it difficult. At the rest stop in the cafeteria, I got a small cup of gatorade. But then, I couldn't figure out where the route was because there were so many hallways leaving the cafeteria and so much traffic. Finally, I just ran outside and around the building to find where I needed to be. When the marathon was over, I went to Cornerstone. And Michael Jackson was performing. I knew it was him by the white glove.