It’s a Sunday afternoon. Nothing’s wrong. The chores are done, and a long, quiet stretch of time sits in front of you, empty.
Somehow you end up in the kitchen with the cupboard door open. You’re not hungry or upset. Just standing there, scanning the shelves like one of them might hold the answer.
A few minutes later you’re back on the couch with a bowl in your lap, and you can’t remember deciding.
That’s the boredom bite. Most of us have made that walk so often our feet know the way on their own.
