Some absolutely brilliant blog posts have been half composed, but alas, only in my head, at times when my computer and I have been far, far apart. All this prose, which appeared deathless at the time that creativity was surging through me, has evaporated completely. The world will never know what it has missed.

The Olympic Games are happening, but as some time ago I cancelled all the sports channels on Foxtel, I am not seeing very much sport. Last night I had a go at watching the diving and the trampolining. (I had not noticed that trampolining is an Olympic sport.)

It is hard work watching sport. Much of the commentary is fatuous and chauvinistic. Then ads come on every ten minutes, making me splutter and snort and seethe.  At such times I wish I were the Minister for Broadcasting, with unfettered power to switch things on and off, and to force inane and chauvinistic commentators into re-education camps. But I am probably in a very tiny minority holding such views, so all I can do (apart from letting off some steam here) is grin and bear it, and get on with the more pressing exigencies of life.

And the exigencies of life are abounding, even as I blog.

Fernando is coming on Monday to start fixing my damp problems, and to re-do the floor. Just in case there are rats about, under the disintegrating floor, I have put rat poison beneath it.

Let me assure the blogosphere that all of this is far more stressful than any Olympic event could possibly be, and, what is more, no one is likely to buy my story, interview me on TV, or get a team of experts to re-do my floors. Let's face it, some realities would make pretty awful and depressing viewing reality TV.

On Tuesday the stair lifts are to be taken off the stairs, and put in boxes, to live in the garage until such time that I decide whether to try and sell them, or to hang onto them until I am decrepit enough to need them to be re-installed. If the removal is indeed done, in the afternoon the vintage furniture people who are buying Dr P's old furniture are coming to take it away, tra la.

This makes some room for the contents of the dining room to be put into the lounge.  The cupboards etc have been emptied and put elsewhere. Those not fitting into any elsewhere will have to be found a good home, eg Vinnies or the Salvos.

It has become very obvious that I have far too much stuff. This process of discovery is incredibly time consuming. This evening I went through the boxes containing tools, hardware and garden implements. The boxes are far more orderly now, but the contents have not decreased noticeably.

All day tomorrow I can fine-tune all this. Then on Monday I have to go to a timber place, to decide on the timber to be used for my new floor.

I do not quite know how I am going to mange when we reach the stage when the refrigerator,  freezer and dishwasher need to be moved and put somewhere, so that the new floor can be installed and then sanded and sealed. Will the contents of the freezer have to be chucked out? How will I cook? Will the milk go off?

When all these problems have been resolved, perhaps I can become an expert on logistics and give highly paid lectures, or perhaps feature, smiling, decisive and competent, in reality TV programmes, on logistics, and the minutiae of the application of chaos theory to Everyday Life.

In between all these events from the Olympics of Everyday Life, I have been going to choir practice.

Yesterday five of us from our local knitting group went along to the ABC for the Wrap with Love Knit In. That was great fun, an absolutely wonderful event, full of people working to help others, and in so doing creating vast amounts of social capital, as well as thousands and thousands of wraps to keep people warm.

And I reflect on the course of my life, and how to wrest control and transform whatever I can. The sands of time are running out.