As Boring as It Should Be

I’ve come to be a big fan of the uneventful. I’ve already lived a highly eventful life for a block of many years. It wasn’t great — because it wasn’t the shiny, glamorous kind where the events were big parties or celebrations. It was the downtrodden and stressful kind, where the events were emergencies. Event after event, marked by sirens and firemen and EMTs we came to know by name arriving as regularly as the garbage truck. During all those busy-in-a-bad-way weeks, I wanted nothing more than to Thank God it was Friday and just have a boring Saturday followed by a boring Sunday.

Fast forward, add a successful drug trial for my son and a raging pandemic for the world, and, well, didn’t I get all that and a family size bag of boring weekday chips??

These days, though — how they can drag. And everyone seems to base their ability to operate within this span of time on one of these designations:“I love not having to go out — I’m an introvert” or “Betty hates this isolation because she is an extrovert.” I don’t know how I identify, if I’m an introvert or an extrovert. I think I’m just a…vert. I’m fine turning, as the root vertere suggests. I like a party, and I’m sad that the usual slate of holiday parties will be blank this year. But I also like my couch, and I like “The Great British Baking Show” — a show recently reviewed as “as boring as it should be” — and its strange…