la dolce vita

Summing Up Day 8

He waits for me back home, in the living room, silently. The sun rises, sets and rises again. He does not move. He has no thought other than to serve me, comfort me, hold me, and in my absence, he has no thought at all. In my absence, he may not even exist.

But he is in my thoughts, even now, even in this exotic locale, in a glamorous foreign country, doing intriguing, important work. Even now, I am daydreaming of our reunion.

I imagine our first meeting upon my return. I run in the door and drop my luggage, pausing just a moment at the refrigerator to grab a Caffeine Free Diet Coke (24 days, people!) and into the living room I sail, into his open arms -- but careful not to spill. He doesn't like spills. He hides them as well as he can, of course, but with age come the indelible marks of life, and he has seen more than his share of life. And spills.

He has no name, nor does he need one. He would consider it beneath him, to be given a name, and slightly fey. He knows what he is to me, after all these years. He is the one I come home to, every time, the one that, in a sea of choices, I choose. Every time. He is my La-Z-Boy recliner rocker with built-in heat and massage feature.

I have never wanted him more in all my life.

From the moment I boarded that big ol' jet airliner on Feb. 4, I've been uncomfortable. The airplane seats, merciless as they are, were as soft as sitting on baby bunnies (note to PETA: untested metaphor) compared with the office "chairs" -- I use the term loosely -- here. And don't get me started on the beautiful slab of Italian marble back in my dorm room, passing for a mattress.

I've already broken one office chair, which ties me for the lead with Aimee Sanders, Dan Steinberg and Les Carpenter. But I have a good feeling about my chances going into the weekend. The U.S. women have been disappointing in hockey, in skating, in moguls skiing and snowboard cross. But I promise this: I will not disappoint in the chair-breaking finals. I will bring home the gold. I will be black and blue all over, but that is what the built-in heat and massage feature is for.

I admit, I was hot-dogging when I broke the wheel off my first chair. I had a clear shot from my desk to the Info 2006 computer about three feet next to me -- think the Magic TV of computer networks -- and if I had just slowly inched the chair over there, using my heels, I would have made it. But instead I shoved off like a naughty girl on Scare Your Daughter Into Going to Law School by Taking Her to Work With You Day and over I went, off the course, into the snow. During a conference call with reporters later that night, I denied hot-dogging, but in my heart, I knew what I had done.

I may lose my La-Z-Boy endorsement deal over this.

MARIE REINE'S DAY: Up in the morning with the sun, only to find the croissant was hard, the chocolat slightly scalded, Le Monde in the bushes, out of reach. Back to bed. Another matin will come, and soon enough.

QUOTE OF THE DAY

"It was super to go home and rest and recuperate and get away from this horrible air here, full of dust."

Skier Hermann Maier , who returned to Austria for four days because of a sore throat

So let's get this straight. You walk away from one of the most spectacular crashes in Olympic skiing history. You nearly lose a leg in a motorcycle accident yet come back to ski yet again. But you can be forced out of the Italian Alps by dust . Good to know.

-- Tracee Hamilton