Time passes, often illegally on the right shoulder.

I think I'm bored for the first time in as long as I can remember. There is just nothing I'm interested in doing and nothing I really need to be doing.

I was able to sleep late, which by normal standards means I got enough, a fairly solid eight hours, thus I am well rested and alert.

Everything I need to watch has been watched; I finished season two of the Sopranos, the entire Firefly series, the latest episode of LOST, and schmecky's episode of Nip/Tuck. That's more television in a weekend than I've watched in years.

Nor is reading on the agenda. I'm currently reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera and The Illuminati Papers by Robert Anton Wilson, though I've been catching up on television shows I've missed, so those have been slow-going, compounded with my urge to do nothing, does not bode well for their completion tonight.

Writing and art is out, I'm just not in the mood. No creative projects with deadlines, I made the final changes to the Little Blue Crunchy Things poster I had to do. I even made this new background for my MySpace page this morning.

So now I am playing Civilization III, listening to Bright Eyes, and doing laundry, neither of which are vanquishing the aforementioned boredom. Even adding a brazillion links to this post didn't do it, though almost.