Being bored and boring

I can tell when I'm really bored: I either start shopping or eating or shopping for food to eat. Both are ruinous on my figures, bodily and financial. Sundays are particularly dangerous: I'll head out for a bike ride and come back with bottles of soy sauce, packs of weird Japanese ingredients, and assorted crockery. So yesterday, when boredom struck, I was determined to break this habit and went for what felt like a longish walk. I walked to the Hoofdorpplein and, I must confess, popped into "pile 'em high, sell 'em not particularly cheaply" drugstore Kruidvat -- but buying contact lens solution isn't really shopping, per se. Then, round the corner, along to a canal, over the canal, down the other side of the canal, past the drunks sleeping off hangovers on the grass by the canal, and past a tattoo parlour. I was very tempted to head in and get something done, but then I remembered how even a simple blood test led to large quantities of blood pooling in my arm and massive bruising for weeks after and that I'm terrified of needles, so I didn't.* Back to my walk, past a very pretty cottage that clearly used to be way out in the countryside but is now stuck between a light-industrial estate and a dual carriageway, on past the graveyard and back, appropriately enough, to the office. It felt like a long way, but it only took 20 minutes. The perils of not wearing a watch.

And then I shopped. And ate the prawn crackers left over from lunch. So bored.

*There's very little point to this entry. But I was bored, so welcome to my world.