I’ve taken about 36 hours sabbatical from the telly and the internet, the next time I tuned in, Federer’s commanding net gains are pulverizing Andy Murray to powdered pieces. Why? Because Martin del Potro lost. Because Nadal retired in the quarters. Because life is cruel.
The hibernation has given my eyes some rest. I surfed bits and stuff today, found my usual information havens lacking in pizzazz. I couldn’t grasp the empty readings. I’d probably just watch a few of Ryan’s singing videos, try to recover and play Recto’s rendition of Air Supply, tackle the mess in the house. It has been a tough week, an even nippier, more gruelling January.
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