Horizontalism

As if incarcerated within a plaster cast of oneself, ennui is an acutely immobilising ailment. Ask not, as John Kennedy might have mused on a particularly dreary Sunday morning, what your body can do for your mind, but what your mind can do for your body. The answer, apparently, is absolutely nothing at all at the moment. And why should it? So many times through this life the mind has been willing but the body been unable. So I think we can allow the mind to wear the pants for a little while, even if it only wants to take them off and lounge around on the couch all day. 

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[Giric]

I met an Ennui, fleetingly once, many years ago, it was not abashed by its laziness at all, and when I chastised it, for its lack of productivity, it merely fixed me with a dull stare, and returned to watching a marred patch on my living-room wall. It cared not a flip what I or anyone else thought of it, yet I felt so guilty about the imperfection on my wall, I called a carpenter to come immediately and fix it. Sigh...