Do they have tea-colored medals?

I am not sure whether to wish the Winter Olympics would end or go on forever. They seem to provide good metaphors for my life.

Today, Bode Miller, a U.S. medal winner already, did not finish the men's downhill race. He had some problems, righted himself, then clipped a gate. He said afterward: "I'm taking more risk than everyone else. ... That's partly why I'm able to get medals. It looks easy when you make it. I did a good job today. I was right there. I was on the edge."

Back to Matt. I also am always right there on the edge: where one little thing upsets the whole apple cart.

I feel like a camel whose back is perpetually in danger of being broken by another straw. If that straw never comes, I go to bed weary and with a sore back but intact. If a straw falls, well, that is bad.

I survived the side trip to the mall to get my glasses straightened, even if the automatic doors didn't work. I survived my wheelchair arm's annoying habit of not closing.

And then I got home and had dinner and was relaxing by watching Lost with a nice cup of tea. Sounds harmless and nice and it was .. until I started coughing and spilling my tea everywhere, even on my laptop, which was sitting nearby. And it was all I could do not to curl up into a fetal position right then and there.

Unlike Bode, though, I take more risk than many others and all it gets me is tea-stained clothes.