I think boredom is probably just about the most dangerous thing in the universe. And I'm soooooooooooooooooo bored. I get fantasies about pulling up the floorboards just for the heck of it. And my brain says pick a direction, any direction.
I didn't go the the memorial service. I went to the Kunstmuseum instead. We saw Ego Documents. Do egos die if you don't take care of them, I wonder?