Saturday I was covered with the sickly sweet molasses of boredom; its dark, exquisite rubberyness pinning me to the bed. I was too bored to do anything about my boredom, bored by the thought of alleviating the tedium of being awake. Bored stiff as a board.
And I loved it.
Boredom is too often thrown around as a curse or a complaint. A simply unsatisfying state. There’s all kinds of quotes vilifying it, making it seem like the kind of thing you’d want to avoid, like an STD or the DMV.
But I’ve got to say, when you’re bored to tears, when maniacal laughter spills from your gut because you’re empty of all desire to move or be moved, there is a blissful, deeply fulfilling shallowness to be felt as the time slowly ticks, ticks, ticks away to nowhere and for nothing and with no reason at all.
Boredom is a blessing.
Just ask the first parent you see.