Bored, Bored, Bored

I’m bored. Bored, bored, bored. If you are a Sherlock fan you’ll recognize those words. Sherlock says them at the same time he’s blasting holes into the wall of his apartment with a pistol.

I don’t own a pistol. I have a keyboard and I’m bored. So I type. I’m not sure what I’ll say. My fingers, and muse, (whose name is Victor, by the way. Don’t ask me why he’s male, but he is and I’ve learned not to argue with the muse. The only thing worse than bored is mute.)

I’ve spent the day being productive. I shouldn’t feel bored. I should feel marvelous, full of the power of success. Because the work I did was necessary (and mandatory. I tend to get the mandatory done) but I sit here bored.

I have plenty to keep me busy. I just don’t want to do it so I suppose you can add rebellious to bored. Victor just told me that bored and rebellious is a dangerous combination. You’d think danger would at least be exciting……..Nope, it isn’t.

I should be doing revisions. That would get me one step closer to my goal. But I’m tired. I worked all day. I don’t want to work. I want to be entertained. I’ve combed through the boards. All my regular internet haunts are silent.

I would like to read but I can’t find anything worthy of my time. Oh, my. I almost giggled because I’m doing absolutely nothing right now which is about as worthless a use of my time as I can imagine. I was going to play a new game on the iPad but when I went to play it I discovered that it was…..wait for it………..boring. (sigh)

So I decided to download a second game. Surely I wouldn’t get two boring games in a row. Low and behold, its at 9% battery life. It won’t even last long enough to download the game. So I sit here at the computer, trying to entertain myself by typing. It’s not working.

I’m looking at my wall. Pointing a finger at it and saying ‘bang’ isn’t near as entertaining as what Sherlock did. I’d watch the DVD except lightning took out our DVD player and I can’t figure out how to get the new one to actually work. So I’d have to watch it on a little portable DVD player with an ear bud in my ear. And that’s no fun.

I can’t think of anything to type. Victor has gone mute. I bet he’s sleeping, the party pooper. I wish I knew how to wake him up. I would, if I could.

I love the mental picture of that. Waking up the muse. Mmmm. I think I’m going to go to bed, perchance to dream. Dreaming is a muse-like activity. That will serve him right for going to sleep when I’m trying to entertain myself.

Good Night, all.

About C. L. Roth

C. L. Roth was born and raised in Kansas. She has a deep love for the prairie state, the Flint Hills in particular. She is married, has two sons, four grandchildren, is an artist, writer and full-time caregiver. Life experience has taught her that normal doesn't exist, it's the journey that matters, and the best way to succeed is simply: Never Give Up.
This entry was posted in Writing. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Bored, Bored, Bored

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.