New Levels of Quarantine Boredom

The exciting thing about a pandemic (besides seeing how long you can go without groceries or putting on real pants) is getting to see what avenues your mind will start exploring when boredom reaches nuclear levels.

For the first year of quarantine (oh my God. Year. Hold on, I need to scream into a pillow), I did okay. I read a lot of books, watched a lot of TV and movies and managed to see friends and family through the summer at safe, socially distanced outdoor get togethers. It was inconvenient, but completely managable. Now, three months into winter, with another two-three months to go, I’m getting… a little desperate.

Yes, I still read a lot, but TV has become less enjoyable. There’s only so much screen time my eyeballs can handle before a real sledgehammer of a headache starts and I’ve seen most of what there is on offer. That leaves a lot of time to fill. Time I usually spent going out to eat with my husband, or having coffee with friends. Instead, I’m trapped in my house, I hate zoom meetings and my husband and I have stopped eating supper in an effort to drop the covid weight we put on eating our feelings all year.

Here are a few things I’ve found myself investing time in:

Dollhouses. Specifically haunted ones. I spent a few weeks online, researching dollhouse kits and following dollhouse enthusiasts on Instagram. I ended up nixing the idea for now, because A) they take up A LOT of space, B) they are a ton of work to design and decorate (especially when you get really into it, and I absolutely would) and C) filling them with furniture and such is wretchedly expensive. I don’t feel like adding a miniature sized mortgage to my monthly bills, thanks. Plus, I’d probably get resentful when my dollhouse had better furniture than I did.

Lego. After the dollhouse failure, I thought maybe I would prefer building a Lego empire state building or maybe the Louvre. I like puzzles, so why not let a pretty piece of architecture take over my dining room table for a while? Haha, wow and I thought the dollhouses were expensive. No thanks, Lego. If I want hours of entertainment, I’ll spend $25 on a book, not $650 on a box of pieces to build the Taj Mahal. Whatever feeling of accomplishment that might have given me would be completely undone by the credit card bill.

Seeds. One thing I did buy was seeds. Lots of them. They have yet to arrive, but when they do I’m going to get real intense about them, monitering their growth, talking to them daily and referring to them as my ‘babies’ and ‘plant children’. And if I manage to kill them because I didn’t think through the fact that my house has terrible light, so be it.

Darning socks. Yeah, I’ve actually been darning all my holey socks. A friend has gotten really into up-cycling and mending and she’s inspired me to reduce waste and re-use items I might have thrown away otherwise. She posted a video about darning some of her worn out socks, tights, etc. and it looked weirdly soothing. So, I bought a darning needle and some brightly coloured embroidery thread, watched some YouTube tutorials and fixed all my old socks. Honestly, it actually was soothing. And it kept me off the internet for a while, so win-win.

All of this in an attempt to not lose my sanity or worse still, clean and organize my house. (Hopefully things don’t ever get that dire.)

Is it wrong that by the time this is over I sincerely hope we’ve all developed some really weird hobbies and interests? I want to see people that are way to into bird watching. I want ventriloquism. Maybe some mult-generational painted rock families or a menagerie of knitted sock puppets. If you come out of this normal and well adjusted, I don’t want to hang out with you. Because frankly, you scare the hell out of me.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this post, consider reading my other ones (come on, you know you’re bored), as well sharing it with friends. Don’t want to miss another post? Subscribe!