My progress has been sucktastic due to many things. But, um, basically it's due to the fact that I just haven't been knitting. Not with my ladies and not at home. I haven't been knitting at home because of another P. Phelps, Michael Phelps. I have found it difficult to knit when I am bouncing up and down on the couch, or, someone around me is jumping up and down screaming "Go Michael! Go Michael! Go!" at the television. Crazy, yo sé.
One might think I have a Summer Olympics addiction, and one might be right. I love me some Summer Olympics. From the beach volleyball (which IS a real sport, thankyouverymuch Husband) to the decathlon, I love it all. But I especially love it when there is drama. Real drama. Not some corporately created schlock. Dara Torres kicking ass at 41? Awesome! Tyson Gay failing to qualify for the 100M? Holy crap! Michael Phelps going for eight. Booyah! America can fence? Who knew! Needless to say, I have been glued to these Olympics. I have DVR'd these Olympics and re-watched performances. Hell, I even have googled the athletes to find out what they have tattooed on their bodies ... and for the record, the Olympic rings was a cool tattoo the first ten times I saw it, but now? They are the Olympic athlete tramp stamp.
So P. It is for pathetic progress. But it only happens once every four years, so that's okay.