Bored is as Bored Does

The wind has been whipping the Gulf of Mexico into frenzy. Gusts have been up to sixty miles an hour which will lift the old toupee. (If you have one) Being outside is not the best; with sand and salt coming at you like it was made in a factory. Our little Silky Terrier did a yeoman’s job of staying on the ground but she did resemble the appearance of what you would imagine a Dallas socialite in a wind tunnel to look like. Her hair was everywhere and I could tell she knew it was not right. The boxer did her best to keep her wet nose downwind so to speak.  Since the sand was sticking to anything moist she needed to keep pointing to avoid an eventual clog.

The weather is not the best, but it is sure a good time to get some of those writing chores out-of-the-way. I say chore because sometimes working on a novel day in and day out leads one to a case of the shaking bores. I don’t think this is an actual medical term but for me the symptoms are as follows:

  • I want someone else to do the typing. I already know how the thing is going to come out so the typing part is like changing a flat tire. It is necessary but unless you are a paid Indy 500 pit crew member NO FUN AT ALL.
  • I have the strong urge to kill and eat every carbohydrate I can lay my hands on. Chips, pasta, Fritos, Cheetos, Kettle corn it doesn’t matter. It does not even need to be thawed or heated. In fact, my neighbors always know I am having trouble. They have told my wife the tell-tale signs are there: crumbs on my mouth, slurred speech, and the ever-present smell of chips on my breath.
  • I go outside and look at the lawn. I don’t need to cut it this time of year, but I think it has a real need to be checked.  Checked for what I have no idea but, when the bores hit checking the lawn seems like a real good idea. It is up there with wash the car….BOOOOWAAAHAHAHAHHHAAAAHHHHHHH (someone please slap me).  Wash the car? Who does that anymore? My car is so small (how small is it?) when it gets dirty I put it in the recycle bin. Burrump Bump.
  • I start trying to think of humorous things to write about for Fiction Favorites. That last point was not a good example.  I think more like; who was the first person to actually eat an oyster? Was it a truth or dare kind of event? Did the person actually keep the oyster down? Did all his friends tell everyone at cave school the next day that he ate it? Stuff like that.
  • I begin to wander. I don’t mean like away from the house or anything, I mean wander away from the work I am supposed to be doing. (or at least what I think I am supposed to be doing) I do e-mails, research the net, surf the net. I write short stories. I go to writer group meetings and read my stories. WAIT A MINUTE HERE. This doesn’t sound like wandering, it sounds like more writing things.

So I guess eventually when I get all the bores out-of-the-way I really do return to writing. This is a very good thing and I’ll bet all of you do the same. Sometimes we need to give ourselves permission to goof off knowing full well that we will return to the thing we love, (Crabmeat..just kidding) WRITING.

So if you must, give yourself a little slack and go kill a frozen pizza. You’ll be better for it.

4 comments

  1. Odd that you should mention the oysters. I was making oyster stew the other night and my son and I were having the exact same conversation. His viewpoint, and I do quote “I wonder who decided they could eat these things? When they are raw they look like snot.”

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    1. Great child. I happen to agree with him. I damn near died in San Francisco along with six co-workers after having vvvverrry expensive oysters. This was in 1998 and I havn’t touched one since. Thanks for the laugh. – John

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  2. I have the same urge with carbs:))

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    1. I know right? Give me a big bag of Wavy Lays and stand aside. Thanks for the visit- John

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