I’m blaming
the Olympics. Women’s marathon held my interest better than revising my
text did and I followed the entire men’s ten thousand meters (it was an exciting
race), not to mention all the sports I have never heard of before but find
important to watch. Kayak slalom, anyone? In addition, there are all the
domestic chores that I suddenly find terribly important to tackle immediately.
And while I’m not into sailing like my husband is, the sea seems to be calling
me as well, distracting me from what is important.
Plutarch
may have held that sailing was more important than living (well, actually he
held that it was more important for the merchant navy to operate than for the
sailors operating it to stay alive), but I haven’t reached that stage in my
career of choice yet. While writing is the most important thing in my life at
the moment, I’m not single-minded about it. Perhaps I should make the effort
though. A little more writing and a little less Olympics might go far, and if I
haven’t managed to unbox my summer clothes by now, I might as well leave them
in their boxes. Then again, summer Olympics take place only once in every four
years. I can write my book when they are over.
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