By Joy Winkie Viola, Town Crier columnist<\/p>\n
Reprinted courtesy of the Weston\/Wayland Town Crier<\/p>\n
It was bound to happen sooner or later. I’ve been on a roll since I retired nearly a year and a half ago. I’ve tackled one project after another and often had several going at one time. Even now I have a new piece of unfinished furniture to stain, and once again I’m chairing the Yankee Golden Retriever Rescue spring auction and I have various household tasks I could and should do.<\/p>\n
But I’ve got the midwinter blahs. In short, I’m bored. Just when all the snow melted and I had some enthusiasm for going out and tackling some yard work, another storm dumped a fresh load of the white stuff on our yard and dampened my enthusiasm for landscaping. Besides, it’s cold outside..<\/p>\n
As I sit here at my desk writing, the afternoon sun warms my face and I begin to feel drowsy. The dog and cat are one step ahead of me. They are already napping in pools of sunlight on the carpet. I fight the urge to nap with them and pull out the folder labeled “When I retire..” In it is an assortment of clippings suggesting worthy endeavors for bored minds. One is a list of New Year’s health resolutions which appeared in Modern Maturity<\/em> magazine two years ago. I scan the “50 healthy habits” and find myself attracted to #46 -“Never kill the urge to be silly.” I like that one and begin to think of ways to implement it.<\/p>\n Before long, my golden retriever, Electra, and I are in the car and headed off for an adventure. “We’ll drive to Natick,” I tell her (doesn’t everyone talk to their dog?) and check out that golden retriever wallpaper I heard about. I visit th4e wallpaper store and then head for Dover to investigate an antique\/craft store complex I read about in the Boston Globe<\/em>.<\/p>\n Somewhere on the other side of the Charles River, I make a wrong turn. I am now lost among Dover’s farms, horse barns and new developments. I stop at a gas station to get new directions, retrace my steps and now find Dover Center.. By now I am hungry, having forgotten to eat lunch. The Dover Market looks inviting, so I dash inside, buy a muffin and a cup of coffee, and return to the car.<\/p>\n While Electra and I are enjoying our “picnic,” I suddenly see a good friend from Millis getting into the car next to me. “What are you doing in Dover?” we exclaim simultaneously. I jump out of the car to greet her, the car door slams shut, and there I stand – my coffee, my muffin, my dog, my handbag and my car keys – all are locked inside the car.<\/p>\n “Name?” the Dover policeman inquires. “Address? License number?” Great, I’m going to make the Dover police log .””Date of Birth?” Old enough to know better, I reply. My friend is giggling. The policeman is smiling. My dog is giving me strange looks. And I am feeling very stupid.<\/p>\n “What did you do today,” my husband asks at dinner that night. “I was bored,” I replied,” so I went for a drive, got lost and locked myself out of the car. “”That’s nice,” he replied,” “What are you planning for tomorrow?”<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n By Joy Winkie Viola, Town Crier columnist Reprinted courtesy of the Weston\/Wayland Town Crier It was bound to happen sooner or later.<\/p>\n<\/h3>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"