Sometimes, as good as it is to be gone, it's better to be back. Sometimes I suppose the opposite is also true. At any rate I am back, and happy to be so. The summer, defined here as vacation season, is over.
Hanging out with my grandmothers the past week entailed a decent amount of time spent watching the Olympics, an alternately intriguing and appalling affair.
Intriguing, because some people have gotten shockingly good at some odd things. Teenage girls busting out acrobatics that I dismiss as fanciful when I see them in video games. People moving at impossible speeds. And it does warm some hidden patriotic organ of mine somehow to know that an American swam the fastest, even if I never attached any importance to the activity before and probably won't again, except maybe four years from now.
Appalling, because I find myself watching network television again, and all of my mechanisms for surviving that environment have atrophied beyond recovery. Was I really able to sit through six commercials at a stretch when I was a younger man? I am not what I used to be.
Now that things are boring again, maybe there will be time to do things worth writing about.
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