I remember. . .
I don’t really get bored all that much during the course of my life. And it’s not like I’m entertained by everything, or that I’m just claiming that I don’t get bored, but it’s really more that I can’t allow myself to be bored. Nowadays, that’s an easier thing to deal with than it used to be, because I’ve got a backlog of things that I want to do, and I have hobbies that I can engage in at any time, like running, reading, writing, yard work. . . among other things.
When I was a kid, I didn’t get very bored at all either, because I always had something to read. And when I wasn’t reading, I was out getting in trouble with my friends. I remember one time, just for kicks and grins, I got my friend Nathan to go with me to the local elementary school, where they were digging out part of the blacktop behind the school for – I don’t know – some sort of underground entrance. All I wanted to do was dig tunnels through the huge pile of dirt there and make a fort.
What ended up happening was quite different: I ended up getting trapped in the mountain and Nathan had to dig me out because the tunnel collapsed. I remember that I could barely breathe, and I was trying to just stay in control, and I was yelling at him to dig me out: “use the shovel!” Then I thought about how that would go. “Don’t use the shovel!!”
Nathan dug me out, and we went back to my place and I washed off in the swimming pool. My Dad mentioned how much dirt was on the bottom of the pool as if it were my fault. Like, seriously? Anyway, Nate saved my life that day, because I would have happily gone myself. I don’t forget things like that.
And I learned a valuable lesson: dirt don’t hurt unless you’re buried in it.
This post was prompted by today’s Daily Post prompt and their Weekly Writing Challenge.
Other bloggers die of boredom:
- Daily Prompt | Brianne Writes
- Dogs Who won’t play with you! | The Political and Social Chaos Blog
- Lack of Freedom | Just Another Outlet