Can He Do It?

It's on to week two now in the Great Boredom Experiment. My position in the home has shifted from 'main bread-winner' to 'blob.' I pretty much just ooze from room to room and suck the life out of whatever activity was occurring before I arrived. I'm not sure if that means I've achieved some supernatural level of boredom or not. It's an interesting thought, however, to believe that I've transcended the every day type of 'normal' boredom, and that I now exist on a plane of boredom unreachable by the common homo sapiens.
I call my new plane of existence "The Field of Dreams." This has no reference to a baseball field, but rather a place where all the random thoughts of the universe converge. I sit at the nexus of that convergence and channel all the randomness in a state of boredom induced nirvana. In the Field of Dreams, I have access to all the random thoughts of the human mind, both conscious thought and unconscious meandering. Things flow through my infinite field of random vision, and I note briefly their significance. "Can monkeys spit?" "What would happen if I put a banana in Mike's gas tank?" "Who is that girl, and why is she threatening me with a head of lettuce?"
Each one has it's own value, and each one contributes to the mindless boredom, drawing me deeper and deeper into a trance-like state of drool-inducing brain wave inactivity. "What's at the center of gravity?" "Why is it called a 'hung jury'? Did we hang them in the past as a failure to come up with a verdict?" "Do dung beetles hate their job?"
Each thought is so intertwined with the others that it's hard to tell which are my own and which are from the universe. I'm pretty sure most of them are mine. I'm guessing that probably the universe doesn't care much what color lifesaver is Lou Dobbs' favorite, or how long a giraffe can hold its breath.
Maybe when I go back to work I'll lose my connection to the boredom universe. Maybe I'll always carry this new transcendental lifestyle with me. Maybe I can harness the power of boredom and focus it into hyper-concentrated 'boredom bullets' that I can fire with my brain at enemies, causing them to lapse into a state of unconsciousness while I charge ten thousand dollars worth of jelly beans to their credit cards. (Fear me!)
No matter what happens, leaving my Field of Dreams, my boredom nirvana, my nexus of semi-conscious nothingness will be bittersweet. "I wonder if I could catch a cold from a fish?" "How does Carmichael get his hair to do that?" "What percentage of weasel attacks are caused by accidental exposure to high intensity gamma rays?" "Where do leftover......(fade to black)