Boredcat is Bored.

It's amazing what you notice in the throes of deep, shitless boredom. The way the details, which would be otherwise overlooked, begin to stick out like sore thumbs when you have nothing else to occupy your time. When your book becomes tedious, StumbleUpon repetitive, and your stores of built-up rainy-day homework virtually exhausted, your senses elevate to animalistic acuity.

Everything is magnified. The way the soft but strident voice of the gregarious old woman next to you grates like pebbles being ground together until your own throat becomes itchy and you feel a compulsive need to clear it. The way the pocket-sized, archetypically gay man with an up-turned nose and a Bluetooth earpiece on your other side periodically turns to passively stare at you and, you suspect, your computer screen, until you are forced to meet his gaze -- perhaps a little too maliciously -- in order to make him avert his scrutinizing eyes. The way the vending machines 20 yards away have begun to emanate a steady high-pitched buzzing noise that you, in your unfortunate youth, can't shake from your ears. The way the squat 30-something woman with unfortunate style, a too-tight ponytail and dark circles around her eyes due to what would appear to be a lifelong lack of makeup is irritably rifling through the waiting room's magazines, pursing and smacking her thin lips, and periodically muttering incredulous curses and not entirely euphemistic oaths under her breath. The way the small, stooping Asian man nearby appears to be alternately cooking an invisible elaborate dish and directing invisible traffic onto a ferry boat, thumbs in the air, all the while with a pained look on his face suggesting a possible searing migraine. The way you could swear everyone around you is intently and judgmentally watching you slowly fill out your Seattle Times crossword puzzle. The way the polite, genteel old man talking loudly on the waiting room wall phone gargles his consonants like mouthwash as he works to spit out English words in his German accent. The way a woman's protein bar wrapper is making so much noise you would bet money that she is crinkling it on purpose.

But perhaps most notable is the way you become aware, as you unwrap your own protein bar, that everyone else is probably thinking the same thing about you. It is at this moment that you regain your sense of self and, unfortunately, your sense of weariness that has nothing to do with physical fatigue... unless you count the high level of energy you have exerted in changing the positions of your legs.

Only four more hours to go.