The end has finally come. No more traveling around, climbing mountains, general fun -- as next week I return to responsible adulthood and begin the job that I accepted eight months ago. At this point I have to admit that it can't be such a bad thing. I've cycled my way several times through the Call Me Maybe parody videos and definitely feeling as though my productivity could be enhanced. Plus: My return to work means a return to Canada and a much anticipated release from the grip of NBC's monopoly over all things Olympics related. While my list of frustrations with the American coverage is long and growing, by far my biggest is the lack of an adequate vehicle to complain about my frustrations. Ellen has little sympathy for what I am (and am not) able to watch during the day and I've yet to find Bob Costas's e-mail address. Thus, I'm left to whine on my blog. (And there's always Cookie Monster's Share It Maybe to cheer me up.)
I'm happy to say, though, that NBC hasn't completely ruined my final week of freedom. Yesterday I learned that I passed the bar -- meaning I saved myself the embarrassment of telling everyone I failed. And Ellen, Paul, and I successfully summited Mt. Baker over the weekend in spite of my attempt to die of exhaustion on the ascent. Trip report to come, hopefully tomorrow, though I hear NBC might let me watch the U.S. mens water polo match in the afternoon, shutting down my productivity for the better part of the day.
I'm happy to say, though, that NBC hasn't completely ruined my final week of freedom. Yesterday I learned that I passed the bar -- meaning I saved myself the embarrassment of telling everyone I failed. And Ellen, Paul, and I successfully summited Mt. Baker over the weekend in spite of my attempt to die of exhaustion on the ascent. Trip report to come, hopefully tomorrow, though I hear NBC might let me watch the U.S. mens water polo match in the afternoon, shutting down my productivity for the better part of the day.
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| On the march toward glory. And a big sulphur crater. |