AUSTIN, Texas, Feb. 4, 2005 — I've fallen into this habit of staying up so late that staying in bed until almost eight in the morning feels normal. Before I got out of bed, FFP had gone to work out, stopped at the vet's office for dog food and pills, worked on some laundry and, I think, done a little writing, read the newspapers, had some eggs. Maybe he'd done other things. Fed the dog for sure although she was back in bed with me.

Sigh. I got dressed, made the bed (with Mr. Productivity's help), folded some laundry. I finished yesterday's papers over coffee and a Northern Exposure episode. I fooled around with my computer, finishing off yesterday's journal and starting today's. More coffee. And it's ten o'clock!

I have to say that this new journal format is a breeze. It's easy to set-up the links, I have given myself permission to put in or leave out what I like, I have quit worrying too much about tense and maintaining it and where to paragraph. It's more like a paper journal, with the extremely personal and damaging stuff removed. I haven't written an essay in weeks, but I feel free to throw philosophy around at any turn. I think I should probably leave out more, eschew describing every chew, ignore some of the chores. Whether I get to the club or win or lose at tennis, who cares? Maybe I should be breezier about that stuff.

So finally, a little after ten, I gather up my Gaitskill book and go to the gym. The gym seems to buzz at all times of the day. This surprises me. When I worked I guess I didn't realize there were people in the gym at 10:30. Some men come in for noon workouts but in some cases these other people don't work or they are off. One of the women I played tennis with yesterday is there with her husband. Clearly they are retired. She seems more vigorous. He works out in khaki pants and says very little. She asks me as she's leaving how long I play to bike. "Oh, I thought forty minutes," I say, glancing at the display.

"How long have you been at it?" she asks.

"Thirty-six," I answer.

I actually stay on for fifty minutes. I finish the rather long story that gave its title to the collection I'm reading. I do some leg extensions, some situps and this other exercise that is supposed to strengthen my back and improve my posture. I think that I'm bored with my routine and yet unable to break out of it. I determine to get a new routine when I get back from traveling the next few weeks. Only hiring a trainer will cost money and I am trying to watch my money.

Someone nearby is talking to her trainer. The trainer says, "She said goodnight and said she hoped they had a good life and stuff like that as if she knew she wasn't going to wake up."

I go home. It's noon. I've had nothing but black coffee. We are going out at 6:30.

Taxes. I used to worry about every little line and nuance. Fear I wouldn't get it right, pay to little and get penalized, too much and rue the loss. I am more sanguine now. You do your best to report the stuff on confusing forms (or slightly less confusing work books from your CPA), you check it over, you pay or ask for a refund. And you quit worrying about it. However, you do have to deal with the stuff. I spend an hour this afternoon looking over my dad's 1099's and such. His taxes are pretty easy. He hasn't filled out a worksheet for the CPA and says he 'doesn't think' she gave him one. I'll do it for him. I call her to get one. She isn't in. I leave a message. There is plenty of time, of course, but I should get it together.

While I'm looking over this stuff I do some cleanup on my computer: some defrag and deleting old backups and downloading updates. I also set up my laptop to backup a WEB site connection I have. Just little things.

Around two FFP gets back from his column interview appointment. I tell him about his one phone call and give him the mail which I've carefully sorted, putting the most important things (some business bills, a 2005 charitable contribution receipt) on top, the magazines and newspapers and invitations on the bottom. Of course, I tossed a few things directly into a sack for recycling.

I decide that I should work a little bit on our taxes. I haven't showered yet but I still have time. I take my laptop upstairs to Forrest's office. I make a little progress, I guess. I track down most of the proceeds on the broker's form and establish bases for them. It's kind of fun and amusing if you don't think about the enormous waste of time and effort to figure out you have a tiny profit or loss. We had a redemption of 32 shares of AT&T Wireless stock which was spun off AT&T which, itself had a reverse split. I think anyway. Amusingly enough, there was an article about how, what with the all this sort of stuff and the impending merger with SBC.

We have tickets to see Klea Blackhurst perform (under the auspices of Austin Cabaret Theater) and reservations for a a meal before at Chez Zee. (The performance is in their special events room.) We get to the restaurant a little early. We bump into someone who is dining before the symphony. We sit with her until she goes to the performance. Meanwhile people we know come in, some going to the symphony, a bunch going to the performance next door. We meet, greet, eat, drink. Finally, it's performance time. More greeting (the people at our table) and we get a cocktail and some sparkling water to share. (Although I think I drink the cocktail.)

We pretty much go to sleep when we get home after getting undressed, letting the dog out, preparing our machines for the nightly backup.