The Importance of Nothing
THE CHRONICLES
Dear Chronicle,
Today, I decided to dedicate an entire afternoon to doing absolutely nothing.
This is an important skill, especially after a few particularly demanding days of being generous with one's time and energy.
Naturally, I approached the matter with my usual thoroughness.
I selected the perfect resting spot:
Not too cold, not too warm. Not too hard, not too soft.
And, most importantly, far enough away from unnecessary disturbances.
Then, I informed Giggle Sprout of my plans.
"I shall be doing absolutely nothing this afternoon. So please refrain from asking questions, making suggestions, or requiring my attention."
"What if I need your help?" he asked.
"Manage without it."
"But what if you need mine?"
"I won't."
And with that, I settled down.
My eyes had been closed for a grand total of 53 seconds when I heard a rustling sound. Back and forth. Back and forth.
I opened one eye.
Grrrrrr. Giggle Sprout.
"WHAT are you doing?"
"I'm bored."
"That's hardly my fault. I'm having Nothing Time."
Giggle Sprout stopped pacing. I closed my eye again.
A moment later, I felt a peculiar little gust of air.
The Vegetable was attempting to get comfortable, which apparently involved spinning around in circles and creating quite a draft.
I shifted, hoping he would take the hint.
He didn't.
Eventually, I decided a change of location was in order.
A little peace and quiet was clearly too much to expect from my veggie-headed pal.
I moved to my second favourite resting spot.
Giggle Sprout followed.
Fortunately, the sofa provided a natural barrier between me and my persecutor. I could keep an eye on him from a considerable distance.
At last, I closed my eyes.
Wait. Was that shuffling?
Then I remembered:
Giggle Sprout had asked me for help reaching his magnifying glass,
which Mom had placed on the shelf.
Sure enough, he was attempting to climb the furniture, and he was wobbling alarmingly in my direction.
I sighed.
Apparently, Nothing Time was not going to happen without a fight.
