How the Olympics are Ruining My Life

I've noticed that I'm not the only person out there looking haggard and worn this week. I've been staying up late, just like everyone else, watching the Olympics.

I don't mean to. Every night I tell myself that I've already read the results, I don't really care about ping pong, and sleep is more important than yelling at yet another judge.

But I keep watching. I keep getting sucked back in. I can understand staying up to watch Michael Phelps win gold, or the drama of teenage girls contorting themselves on a balance beam, or even the bevy of tight muscles so well displayed on divers, beach volleyball players and world class runners.

But last night I stayed up all night watching walking.

Walking!

I stayed up all night watching men swivel their hips around a sidewalk for four hours.

What the heck?

Why are the Olympics so compelling?