When Facebook offered me the Dull Women’s Club page as something that might appeal, I wasn’t offended. I was curious, though, and clicked through its members’ introductions and newsy sharings until I was hooked. I joined the group to read the contributors’ posts more often.
“I’m as old as my tongue and a tad older than my teeth,” somebody wrote. And more facts from many others: “I’m one of the dullest dullards you’ll ever meet.” “I like spending time alone at the tiny thrift store in town. If anything is odd or I don’t know what it is, I’ll buy it.” “I filled my pill organizer today, and now I’m charging my phone.” “I led a big, loud life prior to meeting the love of my life. His arrival heralded the start of peace, and now I find solace in dullness.” “I like the sound of the refrigerator humming.” “I love knitting things I never finish.” “I think I might just dump my whole junk drawer in the garbage instead of organizing it, but that would be too exciting.” “Boring is safe. Safe is nice.” “I tried the rivel soup in a diner in Michigan once. It was pretty good.” “I picked the hair out of my brush today.” “The puzzle’s done, the laundry isn’t.” “My toes are permanently splayed from wearing Birkenstocks all the time.”
I logged off, calmed by the blandness, and joined a team meeting for work.
“Here’s the icebreaker for today,” my supervisor said. “Tell us three boring facts about you.”
Maybe it was my “quality time” with the Dull Women of Facebook or maybe it was my recent embracing of the mundane, but I instantly knew what to share.
“My shoe size is 9 or 9 ½,” I said, “I prefer almond flavoring to vanilla, and I’m only mildly concerned about the yogurt in my fridge that expired two weeks ago that I still plan to eat.”
Was admitting my normalcy really this easy? When pressed, I was authentic about being average, but this could be a new default for me. I could—and probably should—more often share the commonplace to bring rest to my listener.
It wasn’t as though I was striving for adventure, fame, or the big story—but wait. Maybe I was—or I at least pressured myself in that direction. When I released thoughts of achievement, I felt a rush of peace and contentment.
I enjoy checking the mail, cleaning lint from the dryer, escaping visitors to go to bed (hey, I still love you all!), wearing sneakers without socks, and doing countless other bland activities that don’t necessitate a mention. Or, to inspire others to embrace the beautifully dull life too, do they?
*Has My Blonde Life inspired or entertained you? If you wish to toss a tip into my writerly coffers, here's how you can do it: @Tamara-Schierkolk (Venmo) or $TamaraSchierkolk (Cash App)
*Names in this blog have been changed to protect my family, neighbors, and friends in the neighborhood, and in a nod of appreciation to the beloved Swedish author Maj Lindman, I’ve renamed my three blondies Flicka, Ricka, and Dicka.