…Let alone look at a computer. I just peeked and my blogroll and am slightly terrified of the sheer tsunami of posts I’m going to need to get through just to catch up. Damn this heat!
They tell us there may be thundershowers later… right now, -3 with the arctic wind blowing relentlessly sounds good to me. I like to layer and bundle up to keep warm – this too hot gig is not fun, honestly. whew.
Anyway, there’s a lit review to finish in 2-3 weeks, so that’s where my attention is. Oh, and trying to find a (part-time) job. That’s always a good idea. Yeah. Let’s hear it for recessions and a severe lack of jobs. Blah! I’d better get used to the idea. Next year it’ll be even worse.
Anyway, I watched (with some disbelief and not a small dose of smugness) the cricket last night. How about them Black Caps, huh? Thanks SA for softening the Aussies up for us. In all honesty though – Ponting needs to be dropped as captain. The moment the man who should have been captain retired (Warne), he fell apart. He’s not in form, he has no tactical genius, and did anybody see that sour grapes look on his face last night when he shook hands with Danny the Victorious? Give Pup the captaincy, let Mr Cricket relax and become the veteran, and bring in a new team (pretty much there already). Oh, and give the poor bastards some time to relax and recover. Nuff said.
And then the tennis. The tragedy that was Roger. And it was a tragedy. Here is a man tennis players fear to meet on the court (Rafa being the exception). Watching him put Roddick away the other day with panache and relative ease, I thought – he’s back! – and watching him last night – instead of trying to get points, he was hitting the ball to Rafa. And the unforced errors. And the net. Roger plays the most incredible tennis against everybody but Rafa. He changes his entire game. He loses his ability to read the ball – he freaks out! And it is tragic. He could have won that final several times over, and he knew it. Which is why his inconsolable grief at the end was heart wrenching. Even more so was the look on his wife’s face. She looked like she was terrified that he may just fall to pieces at any given moment. He’s hoping he realises now that a coach, a support team and a sports psychologist is the only way he will beat Rafa. He’s hoping.
Anyway. What a Sunday. The wrists have had a break, and now the hard work begins. I guess I’ll be seeing you all next procrastination break!