I went out to lunch with my Mom today. She is leaving tomorrow for a three week trip. As we laughed and chatted over our meal she was telling me what was up with various friends and family members. Sometimes she’ll add her own interpretation of what she thinks is wrong with a person, such as, he seems to have Autistic tendencies. I usually listen to these ideas of hers with more weight than I would give to just anyone because she worked in Special Ed for over 20 years. Today a thought occurred to me and I said, “Hey, this is fun! Now diagnose me!”

She looked at me with that little grin she gets, folded her napkin, wiped her mouth, placed it back in her lap, and said, “Oh, I know exactly what’s wrong with you.” Long pause. She loves times like this. I lean forward, waiting. Finally she breaks into a large smile and says, “You’re just bored.”

I start to protest, thinking of the panic attacks, the depression that I can’t shake off, the horrible mood swings, but then I realize she’s right in many ways. I’ve been bored for years, but I haven’t done a damn thing about it. I don’t think there’s a pill for bored.