Boredom through the ages……

Being bored as an infant meant your binky fell out. Once found, plopped back in, life is again good.

I’m an old fart. When I was a pre-school snotnose, it meant mom was home with you. There was no day care. Boredom at this stage meant mom was vacuuming. Or ironing. Or talking to the neighbor lady on the rotary phone. Not paying attention to…….. Muah. Bored.

When I was nine, boredom was when the Flanagan’s went on vacation in the summer. Family of nine children, we’d always have damn near enough for a football game. When they scadoodled, life in the neighborhood sucked.

Being bored at 13, 14, 15 was actually a pretty nice thing. You’d go to friends houses and think up all kindsa stupid shit to do. You’d talk about so and so, and then you’d spend the next couplea hours talking about the chicky with the biggest boobs. HEY! There weren't there at 10, 11, 12. This was BIG stuff!

16, 17, 18. Boredom could mean trouble. Pranks. M-80’s on a cigarette fuse on your buddy’s window at 3am because he pissed “the group” off. Going down 7 Hills Road to see if you could get airborne. Gathered in parking lots until the wee hours, much to the chagrin of local merchants and the local Police Department. “But we’re not doing anything wrong!”

Early 20’s. That GD (gosh darn) mandatory class you HAD to take. You hated it. You couldn’t believe the dude teaching it, SOOOO BORING, actually drew a pretty decent paycheck. It was a have to. You spent the vast majority of that time trying to look down that Zeta’s blouse. (The class, aside from 3 hours credit, did have redeeming qualities.)

Mid-twenties. There’s never boredom here. You’re so hyped up about “Well… I’m working at such-n-sucha place, and I’m gonna be a such-n-such in no time.” Friends get married off, wedding parties happen. Gatherings still take place. Toe dipped into real life, but the other foot is still in college, high school, jr high, the neighborhood. You’re a pup. Pups never get bored.

Late 20’s. By now it’s sunk in “shit it’s a long time until I retire.” I had all that fun to get to this? The only respite is you’re still fit as a fiddle, and you and yours, still liketa fiddle. There are no young varmints running around keeping you from it. It’s the boredom salvation of the late 20’s.

30-something. Rough day at the office. Kids running around like crazy. Yard needs mowed. She’s cooking, mebbe you oughta be doing laundry. You’re exhausted, but kid wants to play catch at 6pm. The only reprieve to boredom here is when the kids get old enough, you can gallivant to the Piggly Wiggly by yourselves. You never imagined how much fun the produce aisle could be. You actually getta follow behind her and stare at her booty, and not have 3 urchins climbing allover ya. No, you’re not a pup, but you’re still invigorated.

40-something. You’re finally maybe making more that pocket change, entry level. You’ve got a nice 401K underway. And every time you turn around there’s a hand out awaiting. What once was a .39 ice cream cone has turned into a $45 tanka gas, or a $50 cell bill (that’s without text messages.) “She” still looks hot, but “that” only happens after you’ve each had a good rest, the kids are certainly asleep (or out and about), or, you’ve set your alarm at 5am “just for that purpose.” The remainder of the time is fairly boring, unless you count finding new hiding places for your wallet as ‘fun’.

50-something. If there are still pitter-patters happening in your household, that’s very (close your ears) fucking boring. Good God you can vote and drink legally now, will you please leave? You look at her, remember when you each had flat bellies. Through the years, you’ve whoopied in that room, this one, over that sink, on that sofa, the tent in the backyard, this way, that way, fast, slow, lights on, lights off, candles, music, TV blaring, 3am, 5am, noon’er, home early an hour before the kids got there, whilst they were at grannies. This outfit, that outfit, no outfit. There just ain’t left to the imagination that ain’t………….. Victor, are you gonna say sex is boring?

60’s… I dunno about the 60’s.. . I ain’t there yet. But I can imagine taking a trip around Wally World, seeing all of the above, knowing you’ve “Been there, bored that” would be just that. I would imagine the final years of employ to be not-so-fun. A new dude in management throwing these “team meetings - YAHOO!!!” things. Patooey. Greeting a new 20-something co-worker becomes “Hi, I’m so-and-so, frankly I don’t give a shit about you, because in __ years, I’m getting the hell outta here, but have a nice day!”

70’s are not quite as boring. Your kids are going thru the for shit 40’s, 50’s, and you delight in the fact their faced with living that era you hadta. When they've been beaten to death for bucks by your grandchildren you relate "sorry, wish we could help, we're on a fixed income." Your bod’s still ok, your brain still recognizes your significant other. With the assistance of modern medicine, that too can be ok.

80-something. There’s never any boredom here. You wake up each day a different person. Thirty three consecutive days you greet the server at the buffet line with “I’m Arnold, nice to meetya.” It’s like living in a co-ed dorm. You get lost “on purpose.” Periodically, these strange people will come visit, you pretend to be nice, and then you shoo them away as the shuffleboard tourney is about to begin.

When I get bored, I write. Or flip channels. Or leave the house. Or, close my eyes and let my brain think of another day, another era.. “Back then.”

We go through tons and tons of mundane, boring crap. It’s the highlights of life that keep us pedaling. Boredom happens. To us all. I don’t really have a “catchy’ end. I used all the good shit up, up there. Boring eh?

Loveya, having you here is never boring. Love, Victurd