Mundane.

Tonight I am writing, typing. It can be almost stressful weighing out whether or not a potential post will be witty or insightful enough to go through with publishing. In that case, I will force myself to type, as mundane of subjects as I may be reviewing.

A friend of mine used the word "mundane" once, maybe twice in conversation. I now over-use it in my head. "Mundane" has become one of those words that I want to keep using, even out of context, but now that I am consciously aware of my desire, I stop myself. Now, each instance when my mind wants to tell my mouth to describe something as mundane, an automatic trigger goes off before I speak; I analyze the use of the word and most often choose to word the sentence another way, thinking it will lose its meaning when used repeatedly, especially when used incorrectly.

Rereading the last paragraph I want to address why I have the urge to use that word. What makes it so appealing that I want to bend my sentence structure around the word to make it fit grammatically and logically?

I don't know. I don't have the desire to figure it out. We'll label that as an observation and call it good.