What they both knew, I am sure, was that I was simply in love with the idea of a strange idea, and that given some other way of expressing my enthusiasms, I would be quite content. They were right, of course, and this was only further driven home by actually watching the sloths at the National Zoo. If there is anything more boring than watching a sloth — other than watching cricket, perhaps, or the House Appropriations Committee meetings on C-SPAN — I have yet to come across it. I had never been so grateful to return to the prosaic world of my dog, who, by comparison, seemed Newtonian in her complexity.

Kay Redfield Jamison (1996)
An Unquiet Mind. A Memoir of Moods and Madness, p 20