I'm an Olympics widow

Olympics Widow

def. A wife reduced to grunts and silence as sole form of communication during televised Olympic coverage. Husband or spouse is physically present but completely non-compus.

The Olympics have commenced.

I am now operating as a single parent, an Olympics widow, if you will.

It's my own fault, because I've always known #1Hubby is a total and utter televised sports freak.

He was flicking through the various Foxtel channels dedicated to all things Olympic, whining about the 8 Olympic channels that we don't get on our package.

I told him of course we get them.

I. TOLD. HIM.

Since that moment we have not made eye contact.

He removes himself from the TV only to whiz, eat, or text his mates and check that they are watching different channels so that they may compare tales of epic Olympic moments when they're at work and not surgically attached to their televisions.

I think I've developed a twitchy eye from the constant channel flicking.

I am receiving blow-by-blow accounts of every single event.  Just in case I'm not paying attention.

I'm sure he's counting that as us communicating and having quality time together.

I've never seen the man show so much emotion in all our 16+ years together.  The mere sight of a podium and he's all misty-eyed.  It's quite pathetic, not to mention a total turn-off.

MOFO Olympics....

Why, oh why, do we need EIGHT Olympic channels in edition to all the pre-existing sporting channels?

Why, oh why, did I open my big mouth to tell #1Hubby that we do in fact get all 8 channels?

Why, oh why, didn't I shut up and let him think we didn't?

I'm considering dressing The Feral Threesome in green and gold lycra so that #1Hubby will register their existence.

On the plus side, he's been sleeping on the lounge so that he may imbibe Olympic awesomeness via osmosis as he sleeps.  I have had the entire bed to myself, and full control of the TV in the bedroom.