July 12, 2007
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My old Maths teacher used to say that only boring people get bored. In that case I’m currently the biggest dullard this side of Michael Gove (evidence).
I am bored. I have ennui. It’s that feeling you get when you’re 12 and, even though you have books and toys and TV and videos and friends and it’s sunny out, you complain about being bored because there’s "nothing to do". There’s plenty to do, child, you just can’t be arsed to do any of it.
Perhaps I’ve finally come to the end of my ability to amuse myself? (Stop sniggering at the back.) There are things I could do. I could give the back hallway ceiling the third coat of paint it needs. I could finally watch some of the many still-wrapped DVDs. I could hang out in a park – it’s supposed to be reasonable this weekend. I could go see the British Museum’s new prehistoric galleries. I probably won’t though because I can’t be arsed. I’ll just have to hang on until next weekend – that’s very much blocked out for reading the new Harry Potter. Twice. And nothing else.