I figured that now I have a poodle who actually plays (Lainee didn’t play…) and who actually loves toys, so I’ve been buying toys… I needed a toy box.

At first I considered buying one online. Something pretty.

Then I considered a lovely basket from a local store…

All good choices.

In the end I opted for the free (right now) option. I made a toy box out of a cardboard box I had lying around and gathering dust (and orphaned items).

I began by hot gluing the flaps down to give it strength. Then I decoupaged inside and out using old brown paper bags I’d been keeping for some unknown reason.

You can still see the logos of the shops in parts of the box… I had planned to paint it, and maybe I will one day, but I was in a rush to finish it and watch Vincent* pick his toys out.

*Yep. He is now Vincent. Calling him Vega or Vegas just didn’t feel quite right. Vincent does. It means a bit more than Vince Vega, it’s got connections to the art world as well as to hit men and the mafia. Vince, Vinnie, Vincent, Vincenzo, Vince Vega at odd angry mother times.

So, in the vein of hit men and mafia, and because Toy Box seemed too obvious and banal, I give his toy box a name:

I am easily amused.

Once dry, I filled it up with some toys and then watched as he chose the fish first.

He gave that little sardine a good ol’ chewing.

Please excuse the mess behind… a big old cardboard box full of stuff to put away, my old sewing machine, a lot of sand and dust bunnies (thankfully invisible to the camera) and my favourite Blunstones.

The box is now on the porch being enjoyed by the cats till I take it to the recycling bins.

The old sewing machine, which needs a new motor cause it blew up, is waiting to be taken to storage. I might be able to get it fixed one day if I’m lucky. Apparently, I can get a new/old motor in England… But I live in Greece. Whatever.

The boots are pretty much still there, just under the bookcase and no longer in the way. Hey, it’s my house and I can keep my boots wherever I want them.

z