Have You Met the Most Boring Person in the World? Would you like to?

When I think of the most boring person in the world, my mind doesn’t stay to the present time period...

I envision someone sitting at a desk, a bottle of ink to the right and quill in hand, adorned in Victorian era garb. They are scribing a novella, in the fashion of the times, but lacks the the wit of Oscar Wilde.

"Either these curtains go, or I do"
~Oscar Wilde on his death bed

But...

Back to the future!

What is the hip and modern “most boring-ist motherfucker” up to on the day-to-day?

What do they do?
Where do they live?
If it’s so boring, why should anyone care?

Let’s investigate the life of an individual, an individual devoid of excitement. For the sake of this case study, they'll remain of undeclared gender.

We'll nickname him/her 'Ennui Doldrum'

Ennui resides in a bach pad on the main-floor of a small apartment complex. It is designated for the 55 plus —and although they aren’t nearly that age, they had managed to convince the landlord they would fit in just as well as any senior citizen.

It’s plain as day Ennui reeks of boredom and a unique brand of harmlessness

Let’s take a gander at their residence:

Household decor is artwork of 18th and 19th century Dandies, not including Oscar Wilde, as Ennui is not fond of humour.

buffalodany.com

Less-than-Minimalist describes the furnishings.

One dining table fit for a single place setting.
A single wooden chair.
The perfect set-up to dine all alone.

In the center of a bedroom rests a single-size bed; sheets white so one can easily tell when time for a wash. The standard apartment-issue closet is plenty space enough, no need for a dresser.

Drawers? Entirely unnecessary; socks and underwear are hung up individually so it’s easy to pick out complimentary sets. It’s not easy to match fifty varying shades of brown if the items aren't splayed out in full view. Laundry day is a time-consuming effort that occurs every Friday and Saturday night.

The bathroom contains one supplement bowel movement literature; an encyclopedia on pharmacology from the early 1900s. Ennui finds comfort in the feel of the leather bound cover

An ergonomic office chair is the most modern furnishing of Doldrum's home. It's place in front of their relatively barren desk. On the desk rests a computer with standard Windows OS for basic word processing and internet browsing.

Browser of choice: Internet Explorer! (it came with the system so it must be the logical choice.)
They use the bing toolbar as their solo web search tool

MS Word primarily serves to catalogue a collection of neologism and favourite latin terms (such as prima facie and ex post facto). Ennui feels traditional latin phrases are still around for a reason; they're the most apt descriptors, regardless of how many people actually understand them. On the rare occasion Ennui feels a bit wild, they collect obscure facts on the history of Martial Law in European Communist nations.

I'm sure you're very curious of the romantic life of such a card. No evidence of one was found.

Sexual orientation: “celibate” (which, Ennui insists, is purely by choice —although no one has ever inquired.)

Speaking of spicing up one's life...

Dietery preference is for plain food. Not a single spice or condiment lurks in Ennui's kitchen. Not even salt.

Plain oatmeal for breakfast.
Plain white bread for toast.
Plain yogurt.
Plain skinless potatoes.
Plain lettuce counts as a salad.

For drinks:
Tap water; black Red Rose tea is a Sunday morning treat.

Dining out? A frivioulous endeavor; aside from Ennui's regular stop at the nearest bakery to pick up always a single dozen bran muffins every second Monday. If there is not a pack of a dozen available, they don’t buy any because they lose $0.63 on a half a dozen purchase (it adds up to $20 a year in savings when they reject the impulse and nothing makes Ennui Doldrum more proud than to forego impulse in favor of reason. Level-headedness is their prime value prima facie.)

Real butter?
Never.
That would be a sensory overload for their tastebuds.

Ennui is not a fan of auditory entertainment. In fact, they reject all music.

Ennui resents music's ability to influence emotions and considers song and dance a form of manipulation; possibly assault under some circumstances.

No surprise that there’s not much of a social life to describe!

About once a week Ennui's Father calls, usually to bug them to get their eyes checked, insisting that astigmatism runs in the family. Each time the topic is broached Ennui can’t help but indulge it, and each time their rebuttal is the same formulaic argument about how glasses would not enhance their quality of life.

Employment is unnecessary; a very wealthy relative from Liechenstein passed away and left them a tidy sum of money, as said relative was wed to a woman who became a Duchess through their first marriage to a Duke from the Liechenstein Royal family (he passed away from a heart attack on a business trip).

This generous nest egg is the exact amount to modestly live on for the average expected human lifetime for Ennui’s gender and family medical history.

Historical inventors greatly impress and fascinate our subject. After some research, Ennui deliberated that Thomas Edison > Tesla. They read a biography of Tesla once and were disturbed by his obsession with pigeons; an obsessive, passionate nature is horrific folly enough, never mind keeping pets. They can’t conceive of why anyone chooses to. It is neither logical nor practical to have extra mouths to feed who don’t pull their own weight. Think of vet bills for too long and Ennui turns nauseous and dry heaves a bit.

A childhood memory of a hamster haunts Ennui. Step-mother always forced them to clean it’s cage, despite their severe allergy to those wood chips which aggravated their asthma symptoms.

Step-mother is dead and in a variety of pieces, possibly still spread out at various locations at the bottom of the locales largest lake. Ennui has the original GPS coordinates in their head, involuntarily.

Philosophical question...

Is one really taboo thing all it takes to make someone so impossibly boring, interesting? like some bizarre type of Redemption?

How do you picture the world’s most boring individual?