Goodbye Olympics...


I made time for you. Far too much time. I put my life on hold, almost eagerly, staying tuned in. I somehow incorporated you into my conversation and other gatherings. I narrated and recounted your stories to those still detached from your clutches. Not me, I was devoted. But now I know way more than I ever wanted and far more than I will ever need to know about Michael Phelps, Shawn Johnson, Nastia Liukin, and Usain Bolt. Yet, somehow I feel lost without you. I guess I have a month to try to kick the habit, through the cold shakes and shudders of the remainder of summer reruns, but you and I both know that the new fall season will pull me right back in this tubed addiction. You could say I live 22minutes at a time, if you call it living at all. I don't. No, every time I sit/lay down to get my fix, I tell myself I could be doing something more productive. Sure a list of things springs to mind, but the weight of them compiles until I feel I need get away. Only a brief get away, maybe to a place of levity, where I don't have to worry about what's going on because it really doesn't affect me. Even thinking about trying to get away is becoming a bit burdensome. I wonder what's on TV now that the Olympics are over?