So I woke up super-early this morning, after passing out on the couch last night. Easter Sunday was a long day that started with organizing my taxes at 4:30 a.m. and ended with a rousing game of Tootses, an Easter tradition, in the backyard. At about 9 p.m. last night, I vaguely remember telling the kids to try to get back into a normal bedtime routine, since school is back in session on Tuesday and they’d been keeping schedules like a bunch of teenage vampires all week. But the next thing I knew it was 5 a.m., kinda like when you’re lying on the operating table and the anesthesiologist asks you to count backwards from 10 and suddenly you’re in the recovery room asking for another blanket.
True to form, instead of getting up off my butt this morning and writing (I’m a couple of days behind schedule, oh boy…), I took advantage of my having the TV all to myself and turned on my DVRed Grey’s Anatomy. It was a pretty good episode, and I got involved in things — LOVED that actor Jake McLaughlin, from TV series Crash, was guest-starring — when a character, whose wife had just slipped into an irreversible coma, said something that made me hit pause and rewind. Three times. He’d said, “All I wanted was to live a long, boring life with my wife.” The sentence stayed with me, and I left the TV on pause for a good five minutes and just sat there in the dark. Then I was out from under the covers and at my computer. Writing.
It was the word “boring” that got me, how that under normal circumstances people flee from the word, would rather lead a life that was anything but, and how they forget that “boring” is nice and comfortable — and a privilege.
I’ll have to remember to tell my kids that the next time someone asks them how their vacation was, and they respond, quite characteristically, “boring.” You know what? I think I already have.