Every day since the Olympics started I’ve sat down to write a little something. Turn on the TV to keep me company.
I start my computer. Change the channel to BBC while it warms up.
And I’m lost.
Another post goes unwritten. Another load of laundry goes undone. Another dinner goes uncooked.
While my MacBook sits neglected, I watch 2,008 drummers pounding reproductions of ancient drums in perfect time. I admire the largest LCD screen in the world from what is possibly the smallest TV ever. I sit fascinated as the Olympic torch is carried around the ceiling of a futuristic stadium.
And that was before any of the games actually started.
Now it’s beach volleyball (and beach volleyball body envy), gymnastics (scrunchies? seriously???), and basketball. Eventing, beach volleyball, fencing, and water polo. Regular volleyball, girls basketball, baseball, and yes – more beach volleyball.
(I’ve decided the Canadians really love beach volleyball. I wonder why…?)
The only thing getting more coverage than the little signals beach volleyball players surreptitiously give their teammates while hiding their hands behind their bums is swimming. And all because of Michael Phelps. You know all about him by now, so I won’t blabber. I will say, though, that I’ve developed a minor crush on Piersol. And suddenly really want to know more about Tunisia and its amazingly attractive swimmers.
I’ve sat mesmerised, getting up only to switch the couch cushions around to keep the left side from getting too saggy…while wondering how the marathoners run with no visible meat on their bones.
Tonight, though, I was determined to write.
But it happened again. The men’s triathlon just finished up. (Canada took silver, by the way, in a very dramatic sprint for the finish line.)
And oh – look – more beach volleyball.
Sigh. Hopefully you’ve been similarly absorbed.
Every day another story – except during the Olympics -
Sofie
so glad you’re back, Sophie, I’ve missed you.