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I'd like to think the delay between posts lately is more a case of quality over quantity, however the truth is a little closer to me having nothing important to say.
I wonder if I'm becoming a little [read a lot] boring, and perhaps instead, a little too eccentric. My works "do" is tomorrow, and I'm not attending. I really hate playing the "networking" game - frankly along with all the other bullshit reasons for not going, I live in fear of boring my workmates to death. I don't know about you but I'd imagine someone is infinitely more interesting, before finding out in fact they're not.
There is a definite sliding scale to boredom. My mum would probably argue that my Dad is the litmus test; thankfully thus far I am not surgically attached to the couch watching golf on Sky TV day after day being cursed at.
I count my mercies where I can. :)
All this aside, I often hear that my male friends are also boring. Their wives tell me these sorts of things all the time; true, often when I'm out and about doing stuff with them.
According to the girls - "he" (never the boys name - always "he") never takes them anywhere, buys them anything, or says anything interesting any longer . I always wanted to ask if they ever did (take/buy/say) - and if "he" hadn't changed so much as their expectations of him.
Then - just as I'm starting to think I might be higher on the sliding scale than I first thought, I realize the horrible truth: I actually belong to another subset of humanity all together. Singledom.
So, I have no kids to tie me down, I have no mortgage to hold me back, and I have no partner to disappoint - yet here I sit, at home in front of my iMac, postulating the meaning of boredom on a Friday, while it turns out it was here with me all along.
Boredom and Irony; laughing with me - right?