I'm Boring

I'm bored and that has made me boring.

It's not that I don't have enough to do. I have so much to do that I've started to seriously dislike hearing about all the people who've organized and cleaned until there's nothing left to do. I will never know that kind of boredom.

No matter what I accomplish during the day, overnight papers have reproduced, the neatly folded contents of drawers have had a square dance and the closets ... I don't even want to think about what goes on in there.

The problem is that life has a "sameness" now. I'm doing the same things in the same place, seemingly forever. Eight months is close to forever, right?

When I'm talking to people on the phone, I run out things to say a whole lot sooner than I used to. In fact, if it weren't for my two amazing grandkids, I might not have anything to say at all.

I can't endlessly describe the movies or tv shows I've watched. If they were good, a quick recommendation is plenty. I mean, I don't want to give too much away. The same is true with books.

When I had a life outside of the house I heard things, saw things, experienced things without being conscious of it,  that gave me things to talk about. I suppose I could spend time visiting museums and listening to concerts virtually, but I have a limited tolerance for screen time and it just isn't the same. I'm spoiled. Or old-fashioned.

Actually, I'm both.

Yesterday I saw my chiropractor. The elbow that I banged up in a fall a few months ago was still bothering me. He walked into the exam room and said "What's going on?"

"Nothing" I said. "I just needed an excuse to get out of the house."

And for a very brief moment, I felt like my old self.