cabin fever

There is something that I need to tell you, though if you fit into the key demographic of this blog the chances are strong that what I am about to share is a life lesson with which you are already well acquainted.

Having no money is SO. UNGODLY. BORING.

I work. I sit at home. I sleep. I watch NetFlix movies. I eat basically the same exact menu every. single. day. With little to no deviation.

One day my roommate is going to return to the apartment after what seems like weeks being gone and find me passed out on my bedroom floor with writing all over the walls about boredom eating my brain cells and rotting my soul. I'll have scrawled things like, "Meet you for a drink? I'd love to, are you paying?" or "Go out for lunch? You mean at a soup kitchen?" or "Go out dancing? Dancing to your car stereo in a vacant lot, right? Cool!"

I distinctly recall learning as a child that boredom will not, in fact, kill you. Science just doesn't allow for it. So I should avoid calling 9-11 for things like "chronic spacing out."

But what about cabin fever? That's real, right? So if I start seeing little gnomes coming out from underneath my bookshelf, I should probably call someone. Duly noted.


cheers,
elizabeth