Fog of Olympic-sized proportions

A friend of mine, sitting on my couch with his head in his weary hands peeked at me and groaned this complaint: “I hate the Olympics.”

“How can you say such an unpatriotic thing!” I exclaimed between yawns.

And then I knew. He was like me, staying up every night past midnight to watch Olympic coverage and it was beginning to wear on him.

I, too, am in an Olympic fog and am navigating the mist with plenty of java in the a.m. and Diet Coke in the afternoons. I would say more on how I wish I could function on a mere fours hours of sleep a night but I’m in the home stretch of a deadline and the end of a book and fog or no fog, I am propelling my characters to the valley of decision today. Today they will face their giants. Today they will face the music. Today they will confront their demons. Today they will reach the point of no return.

Yawn.

Or maybe tomorrow. . .

Author: Susan

Leave a Comment