Unutterably bored.

It’s a sultry Saturday afternoon and I am languishing languidly on my bed, like a languid thing, bored to tears.

The monologue of my conscience takes on a ‘mom voice’ tone and berates me for a) not being domestic and cleaning up; b) thinking my entertainment is other people’s responsibility and c) thinking boredom is an excuse to get high. Nice try, Romeo.

Ok, ok – let me get my head around this one – so you’re saying there’s something to do (the dishes and the laundry); I’m the best-equipped to entertain myself and…wait. What? Who mentioned anything about drugs?

Ah. Just a little reminder that complacency is a dangerous thing. Well played, conscience. Well played.

Fine. I’ll go to the beach.

PS: I get that boredom is luxury. I’ve worked pretty hard to achieve this. So there goes your critique of my supposed laziness, chump.

© Dave Luis 2014. All Rights Reserved.

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