Being Boring: A First-Hand Account

Apparently it is a day of long posts and few pictures. I blame my boring-ness. 

My supervisor suggested I join Young Professionals of Wichita. I think the suggestion was twofold: Firstly, I will be able to introduce all those young professionals of Wichita to IFM. Secondly, perhaps she hopes my social life will extend past my furry friends at the Kansas Humane Society.

My supervisor could not have picked a worse person to join YPW. YPW-ers do things like mingle. At bars. I can barely mingle, much less in a bar. When I do go to bars, it’s to watch sports games. Or listen to concerts. Occasionally I go to bars and dance, but only in Missoula with my Zoo Town Dance Crew. The ZTDC understands the importance of wearing your best suspenders and bright red tights and showing off stellar dance moves.

I’m not so sure about this whole “mingling” thing. Talking at bars is probably the silliest thing I’ve every heard of in my life. Anyway, it’s not really talking since you really have to shout your point. And then re-shout it. And then shout at people you’re mingling with to repeat their points.

I’m not a good shouter. I don’t like shouting at people. It’s a bit of a hassle and a little unfriendly. I’d rather stay home.

I don’t even really drink either. Really. I elbow my way through the crowd and to the bar and after 73 tries, flag down a bartender and ask for… Water. Hold the ice. No-straw-I-heard-it-causes-wrinkles. Thanks.

I kid you not.

Obviously there’s something wrong with me. Seriously. How is it that I am the least twenty-something year old in the world? I think finally figured it out:

It’s because I’m secretly 92. And boring. Duh.

Do you know what I get excited about? Baking bread. Riding my bike. Sewing the grocery bag that I’ve been working on since January. Reading good books and not-so-good books. Figuring out how to make the perfect hot chocolate. Organizing my couch cushions.

Yawn.

Want to know what I did this weekend? Probably not. You’ll probably die from boredom.

Saturday afternoon (before I bunkered down in my basement) I went on an adventure walk where I discovered a playground I hadn’t played on, train tracks I hadn’t balanced on, and a few yards with good gardens I hadn’t spied on. Yet. I also practiced my ballet in the alleyway. Jeté! Relevé! Piqué! Do you think I’m joking? I’m not.

Double yawn.

On Sunday I went to an incredible house, ate 654,242,856 tiny quiche bites, looked at some fantastic art, chatted with the even-more-fantastic artist, and explored some fields by a river.

Whatever.

You know what I did today when I got home from work? Sat on my front porch, listened to the radio (they still make those?) and sewed. By hand (??!!!).

Triple yawn.

Sakes alive! The author caught sewing while listening to her clock radio. How boring. Oh look. My couch. Even my couch is ashamed of me and my boring-ness.

I really need to rearrange those couch cushions.

The result of being boring: A hand-stitched grocery bag. Quick! Run! There’s still time to save yourself!

I also made hot chocolate. Oh wait. We discussed the hot chocolate thing before: B-O-R-I-N-G.

It’s amazing I’m still alive and breathing. I hope certainly hope you still are, dear reader. I wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t though.

Cheers, though. I like my boring life. Actually, I like it so much that I don’t even find it boring. In fact, I think it’s pretty interesting. To being secretly 92 and boring! I’ll drink to that… Water, of course. Hold the ice.

Also, here’s a cool sculpture piece my dad just made. He’s a cool cookie and he’s not boring. You should click here to see it.

Today’s Through My Headphones is brought to you by my mom. She’s a freelance writer and she’s also neat-o burrito. She’s not boring either.

Through My Headphones

*So Long You Pretty Things -Spiritualized

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5 thoughts on “Being Boring: A First-Hand Account

  1. I love to spy on people’s gardens!

    Also…. this was so boring I fell asleep.

    I hope you didn’t write anything interesting.

  2. Pingback: Anonymous

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