Bore Me

We know a woman who is fantastically, impressively boring.  Any conversational attempt results in a quick sputter-and-die of the topic, and a lack of attempt on my part results in deafening silence; not the pleasant just-between-friends repose or the intense-and-edgy pause that happens in the middle of a meaningful interaction, just a dead, flat quiet.  The kind where you jiggle your foot a little to make sure you’re still awake.

I seriously cannot overstate this woman’s uninterestingness.  We’ve decided that she could probably be a professional Borer, but she’s maintaining her amateur status for a shot at the Olympics.  I’m not quite sure whether Boring is a summer or winter sport, but this woman trains all year long.  It’s a gift.

Today, I’m hoping that a little of her aura can reach across time and space to engulf my day.  I’d like a day that involves no phone calls to sheriffs or code enforcers, no ants, and no spaghetti sauce on the kitchen ceiling (don’t ask).  I want to avoid any discussion of large financial issues, whether it involves loans or inheritance or taxes or life insurance.  I’d just like to float through a day at work, ease through the evening routine, and sit placidly on the couch to absorb some mindless television in the evening.  I don’t think that’s too much to ask.

It is, after all, April Fool’s Day, and a boring day for me seems just about as wild and crazy a thing as life could hand me.  (Click on over to New England Mamas for a related rant.)

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