And they're off!

Your darkness belongs to you, just the same way your light does. 

– Mickey Mouse

Raise your hand if you're too fatigued to manage any semblance of inertia today! *thrusts hand blearily aloft* No, seriously; required an hour fifteen to plod through my fifty-minute weight regime. Could not even enumerate why, precisely; simply dawdled, inadvertently. Sufficient ammo to accommodate my customary trajectory eluded me. Bizarre. I have managed eight hours for the past two evenings. Always seem to peter out by Sunday, tho; perhaps I ought to integrate it as a quasi-rest day. Just pop in on a class and write the remainder off as a wash.

Serena conquered her first round of Rolland Garros (she fell in the first last year), and seems poised to dominate. Marvelous. Keep your eye on the blonde, Mademoiselle. 

On the men's side... FedEx occupies his own half of the bracket. With Murray out in deference to his (legitimate, persistent) back issues, and my two other favorites felled by the usual (Del Potro, virus; Fish, heart ailment) he seems a shoo-in to secure a position in the final. Which is really just a shame, because he's one of the most fundamentally boring players in history. Del Potro scrambles like a man half his size, and trips over his tremendous heart. Fish is cute as all hell (sue me for being a girl and having the occasional lopsided priorities). Federer... Zzz. 

Providing Ferrer does not fall to Berdych, it should come down to him and FedEx in the semis. He just might best Captain Conceited, particularly in light of the latter's recent "injuries" (convenient, mercurial reports that only surface after a poor performance). 

In an ideal world, Rafa and Ferrer would combat in the finals. Someone has to topple the two biggest egos in tennis. Why not the Spaniards? Honestly, tho - anyone except Djokovic. I would even root for Roger, if necessary. And, I cannot say that I would particularly mind yet another Fed-Rafa final. Canst thou sayest "Wimbledon, redux!"

And now, a completely boring holiday awaits. Despise holidays.