Born to be bored

All those leaves have to be raked

Fall in New England

I hate the fall!

I know it isn’t rational. Good things happen in the fall. The weather gets cooler and by the end of August, we’re more than ready for that. The foliage becomes breath taking. Ticks and mosquitoes go away and once again the woods are safe. And everyone stops eating all those stupid salads. Suddenly kitchens smell of roast pork, squash, and apples.

I know hating the fall is not popular, New England and fall go together. It’s just really wrong to be a New Englander and not love fall, so I try to mourn in silence for my lost summer.

“In silence!” my husband snorted. “When do you ever do anything in silence?”

I silently ignored that…for a second…before warming to the subject.

“I can’t do any more gardening.” I sighed.

“You’ve never done any gardening.” My husband replied.

“I have to wear shoes!” I cried, “Plus we never go anywhere anymore.”

“Umm…. Appleton in March, Chicago in July for our son’s wedding, remember?” He asked quizzically.

“Chicago doesn’t count, we had to go there. And it was only for 4 days.”

“Where do you want to go?” he asked politely.

“I don’t know! I just want to go someplace that isn’t Foxboro.”


“No!” I stated, shocked.” Someplace warm.”

The thing is, I don’t really want to travel. It’s not what it’s made out to be. It’s inconvenient. You have to pack, and worry about where you’re going and get tickets. It involves getting stuck in traffic or worse, going through airport security. Most of our time is spent arguing about who was responsible for the last wrong turn, and discovering each other’s less than sufficient bladder capacity. And…it costs money!!! I sighed, and explained further. “It’s just that traveling anyplace is better than hanging around watching the leaves fall off trees.”

“So, where do you want to go?” he repeated.

“I don’t know!” I cried.

“How long do you want to stay?”

“Until I miss Foxboro.” I stated decisively. “But I don’t want to be away for long.”

I think it’s my lot in life to be discontent. When the sun is shining, I long for the sound of rain on the roof. In August, I want September. In September, I want August. I think we aren’t really the naked ape; we’re the petulant ape. We’re not born to run; we’re born to be bored.

Meanwhile, my husband was frowning at the calendar. “We can’t go anywhere in October; we have two weddings to attend.”

“And in the beginning of November, I’m scheduled for jury duty.” I sighed.

“We never go anywhere.” I whined.

“Well.” He suggested. “How about the Big Apple? Then,” he cajoled… “we could make apple crisp…take a walk in the woods…followed by a hot beverage..”

‘Hmmm.’ I thought. ‘Maybe this fall thing is looking up.’

“Besides.” He continued. “Do you know what comes at the end of the fall?”

I waited expectantly, dreaming of warm Caribbean cruises…

“Christmas!” he proclaimed enthusiastically “And winter! Isn’t it exciting?”

I threw my shoes at him, and screamed, not at all silently, as visions of shopping flew through my head.

He ducks well.

“I bet you’re not bored now.” He replied smugly.

I hate the fall.

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