Boredom

So it turns out I'm not so different from my children, after all.

(I know, you're shocked.)

But today, I'm filled with ennui. Discontent. In short, I'm bored.

There's nothing to read (on the internet, in my books, etc). There's nothing to watch (in my movies, my Netflix, the internet). (Plus, to be honest, watching movies without doing something else at the same time is boring to me, usually.) There's nothing to DOOOOOOOO.

(Please read that last sentence in the whinest voice you can imagine.)

When I mentioned this to my husband, he suggested options: You could work on (project A). You could work on (project B). You could do (C), or (D), or even (E). (And none of them were housework related, even.)

But none of those options appealed in the slightest. What I really wanted him to do was say, "I take the afternoon off! Pick up the kindergartener from school, and come get me from work! We'll go do something wild and crazy and fun!"

Which is what my children want me to say, when they tell me they are bored. Don't tell me to read a book, or play with play dough, or clean my room! Do something FUN with me! I don't care that you are trying to take care of my siblings, or the laundry, or the bills, or (in the case of my husband) working so that we have money to have a paycheck, I'm bored and I want something FUN to do!

How very humbling. And annoying--I thought I was a little more mature than my children.