Friday, March 31, 2006
I am bored. Not your everyday I’m too lazy to find something to do bored. I mean I am first class, counting the specks on the ceiling (4,489,653 and counting), and, searching my mustache for gray whiskers (4) bored. The kind of bored that makes you want to want to learn a new language or start a new hobby in brain surgery. I mean bored. So bored that you want to start a bad habit just so you have something to do. The bored that causes men to start wars bored. I am bored. I have organized all my pencils, cleaned my toenails to perfection, and manicured the hair on my knuckles. All the coins in my change jar are in chronological order and my shirts are alphabetized by maker. I have ironed my socks and cleaned out the dust bunnies from under the dresser. I am thinking of gaining weight just so I can loose it – at this point counting calories sounds like fun. All the clocks (7) in my house are synchronized and I have rearranged the pictures (13) on my wall. I tweezed the living room carpet and trimmed all the stray fibers. If I still had a cat she would probably be bald and hiding under the bed – which is nice and clean. I read through the dictionary and made what corrections I deemed necessary. All my pocketknives (7) and one spoon are sharp and my toothpicks (53) are aligned in the holder with a slight left-hand twist. I have yawned 57 times since 7:00 PM and I have 123 freckles on my left arm. (I would count the ones on my right arm but I am saving them for later.) I know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll pop (I will let you discover that for yourself) and I have arranged all the cans (88) in my kitchen cabinet by calorie content and color. All the frozen dinners (24) in my freezer are facing the same direction. The refrigerator is on its own. I reached in to move some stuff and got bit. I cleaned out the broom bristles and combed the mop. You could eat out of the dustpan (hey I am a bachelor I may eat out of anything) and drink out of the mop bucket. My shoes are all laced the exact same way and lined up neatly like soldiers waiting for battle. I have polished all the doorknobs (6) and shined the baseboards. I removed all the excess fuzz from my q-tips (114) and sanitized my toothbrush. If I had a roommate I might take up hair design but unfortunately I live alone. All my CDs (47 – mostly classical) are cleaned and fingerprint free and my fingers (10 at last count) are clean and CD free. I counted the staples in the stapler (87) and measured the footage left in the tape dispenser (4’ 7”). My bookshelves (94 books) are neat and organized (a first) and all my batteries (19) have been tested and are arranged according to remaining voltage. I have watered the plants and plucked away any growth that didn’t look healthy (I was talking to them but they quit listening). I dusted all the light bulbs (18) in the apartment and lined up all the thumbtacks (25) on the memo board in nice colorful patterns. I doodled until my doodler quit. And I have written most of this essay. I would go to sleep but there is no excitement in that. Besides I ironed the bed sheets and I don’t want to wrinkle them. My pillows (4) are impossibly fluffy and the nightstand has been polished. I may go around and mess things up just so I have something to do again. I burned all my candles (7) down to the exact same length and arranged all my kids stuffed animals (97) according to height and species (although some of those species I am not so sure about – what do you call a six-legged blue animal with two heads?). For now I am going to practice my rubber band marksmanship by trying to hang them on a nail from across the room. Later I may try to dig an escape tunnel through the back wall just in case I may need to escape from myself - now you know why I sharpened the spoon.