SCENE

A mug of coffee nestled between both hands. A dog curled up in her bed next to my chair. I lean back and turn my head toward the window. The yard is coated in a blanket of white, as snow continues to fall. I ponder the idea of leaving the house today to get a jump start on the grocery shopping. It is a sour thought that exhausts me. Cleaning off the car, bundling up, lugging a bag full of groceries up a snow covered walkway. It seems like too much work for the day. I look out the window again and notice that the chickens haven’t even come out of their coop. I knew they wouldn’t and I didn’t even bother to go out and open their pen this morning. Chickens don’t care to free range on snow days. Maybe I will just focus my efforts on laundry today.

Things I could do today instead, but probably won’t: declutter an area of the house, clean, work on a writing project, jumping jacks. I have a friend who posted about not being mentally prepared for snow. She’s in Oklahoma and to be fair, snow used to be a rare occurrence in that state. I commented that I am never mentally prepared for snow and it is a much more common occurrence where I live. I am not prepared even when I know it is coming, even when I have paid attention to the forecast. Michael talked about planning a social distancing pizza party with his Moms in a park for Saturday. I asked him if he was sure about that. I said “It’s supposed to snow.” He called me a liar and went on with his day. It’s fair. I usually tell the weather forecasters that they are liars whenever they tell us that it is going to snow.

I get up from my chair and walk into the kitchen to refill my coffee mug. Then I walk over to the front door and peer out the window. I look at the street which is relatively clear and then look over at my car in the driveway. It is not clear, but covered in snow in a way that makes it look like it is made of snow. A block of snow on wheels. I shake my head in affirmation of skipping the grocery store today. I turn back to my desk and chair and plop down while wrapping a blanket around my shoulders like a grannie. I have stalled. I am idling. I am settling into my boredom. Actually allowing myself to be bored. Ideas sprout from boredom. I’ve been thinking of a business plan, a service. I either teach a chef to take better photos or I take the food pictures for them for their website. The classes will talk about lighting and building a cohesive and attractive online presence. The service would be photographing and editing photos and then providing digital files to be used on a website. What’s that worth? How much would you pay for a class or a service like that? That’s the sticking point. I’m always underselling myself. Even now with the idea, I feel unqualified. So the idea will just sit in the back of my brain until the next moment of boredom rolls around.

I take a sip of my coffee and wince. It has grown cold as I sat there dreaming up ideas. I sigh as I realize that the list of things I should do just continues to grow longer. Then I get up and head to the kitchen to pour out my cold coffee and refill the mug with warm coffee. As I pour the fresh coffee into the mug I realize that this process will be the loop of the day. Drink half the mug. Allow coffee to go cold. Dump. Fill up mug. Repeat. It is a familiar loop. Start writing something. Set it aside. Dump half of it. Start writing something else. Repeat. Come up with a good idea. Set it aside. Tell myself I’m not qualified or I don’t have the time. Return to that idea. Repeat. I sit down at my desk and look at my keyboard. Today, I am determined to finish this one cup of coffee before it gets cold.

Life goals.

IN DEFENSE OF BOREDOM

No parking

4 Likes, 1 Comments - Cindy Maddera (@elephant_soap) on Instagram: "No parking"

I have noticed that there are two different (at least) species of fireflies in our backyard. One species is about half an inch long. It floats slowly through the air almost like a hot air balloon and has a long glowing blink. The other species is about half the size of the one just described. It is faster in movement and in blink. It also seems to stay close to the ground, while the larger kind can be seen all the way up in the tree tops. 

What kind of firefly are you? 

That question reminds me of that scene in Wes Anderson's Moonrise Kingdom where Sam asks Suzy "What kind of bird are you?" Everyone knows that Sam is really asking Suzy "What kind of person are you? Are you brave and daring? Are you the type that goes against the crowd? Or are you just like the others." Because it is Wes Anderson and every movie he makes drips with metaphors and the implied words between the words. So I ask. What kind of firefly are you? Well, I can tell you that I am the fat slow kind of firefly. 

Since Michael is off for the summer, he's been taking care of everything around the house. He cooks the meals, cleans the kitchen, runs the vacuum, cleans the bathroom, cleans off table clutter, does the laundry and the grocery shopping. His plan is for me to have mostly nothing to do on the weekends but go to yoga classes and scooter around the city. It's a nice plan and with the exception of the occasional round of dusting, his plan is mostly working. I have nothing do. I have oodles of time to do all the other projects that I've been wanting do or at least thinking about doing; the projects that get set aside because of the demands of daily living. This is the perfect opportunity for me to sit down and write, organize photos and get the creative juices flowing. 

I am doing none of those things. I just lay around like a lump. Mostly. I am going to yoga classes and we have been scootering around the city. We spent the whole day last Saturday scooting from place to place, even getting caught in a downpour. We came home, put on dry clothes and then I plopped myself back down on the couch. I was talking to Dr. Mary about all of this in our weekly session. I told her how I should be taking advantage of this extra time, but nothing I write sounds interesting. I delete everything. The scenery around me does not inspire me to pick up my camera. The pictures I take are forced. The pictures I take of myself for my 365 day project are uninspired and often do not include my face because every time I see my face through the camera lens, I'm like "ugh". I told Dr. Mary that I was bored with myself. 

Then Dr. Mary said that maybe I needed to be bored for a bit. 

I realized then that I have been thinking about this free time all wrong. Instead of focusing on doing all of the things, I should be relishing in this time to be still. Boredom is a privilege that is rarely allowed to us in adulthood. Boredom is for children and oh the things a kid can invent to escape their boredom. Fantastical games and magical worlds bloom from moments of boredom. Boredom is the time for recharging the creative batteries. So, I'm going to be bored. I'm going to be still. And then I'm going to hope that something blooms from all this stillness.