Vol. 21 What mountain life taught me about boredom drinking
The cloud is so big, it looks like a giant marshmallow. On a day this clear, I could almost see the little boat drifting across the lake.
Early this year, my husband and I moved from the buzz of San Francisco to the quiet of the Utah mountains.
One evening, we were sitting on the back porch, looking out over Utah Lake.
A soft breeze brushed against our faces, the leaves rustling in the wind like nature’s wind chime.
I rocked gently in my chair and let out a long sigh.
“What a beautiful life,” I said.
And then—almost out of nowhere—boredom hit.
Before I even realized what I was doing, I reached for my phone and started scrolling.
Fifteen minutes passed in a blur. When I looked up, I found my husband, too, absorbed in the small glowing rectangle in his hand.
How often has this happened to you, {{ first_name }}, where you find yourself reaching for a drink out of boredom—when life finally slows down, and the sudden quiet feels almost… frightening?
