Boredom is such an extraordinary thing- it prompts you to do things like knit, smoke pot, get drunk in the afternoon, attempt playing a musical instrument, or worse, contest your local municipality elections/ start a band.
As an annoyingly cheerful lady once told me, 'there's no such thing as bored'- i'm not quite sure what she was high on.
Try this- you wake up, most of the time on an ordinary day, you get dressed in your very ordinary clothes and get into your very ordinary car and you get to work- there you faff around, trying to look busy and kill time until your coffe break where you crowd onto a precarious ledge to have a smoke and attempt intelligent conversation with the office hottie, who, unfortunately, can't actually count till ten or say the alphabet backward. These aren't exactly necassary skills but hey, what wouldn't one do for a little amusement.
Then you eat your ordinary, greasy office lunch and fight back the nausea as you choke on the soupy shit they call tea.
Finally, the clock strikes five and, hey, it's parole time!
whoopee.
If its a weekday, you go home like a good girl and try and cook yourself some dinner without blowing the place up or burning it down (whichever one's easier)
If its a weekend, the boyfriend insists on taking you out to yet another boring, aesthetically retarded, stuffy, noisy place full of teenagers in little sleeveless tunic tops.
the music is completely, mind- numbingly boring and very very loud- but hey no one would notice if you farted!
Then you go home or his place
and you pretend to have had a wonderful time- all the while gently pushing him away with "not tonight darling, my mother is coming to visit tomorrow"
then you go home and eat toast for breakfast.
toast.
ah, what a wonderful life- you could almost cry- or learn to knit.
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