AUSTIN, Texas, May 4, 2005 — Every day I think I'll get back to my dilettante life without some Daddy duties. I mean he can get along sort of. But I don't want him trying to drive. So I get up, shower, go to his house (glancing at the heavy traffic going toward town I'm glad I'm going away from it, just like when I worked). I flip the garage door opener for his door that I keep in my car and before I can gather up and get inside I see the wheelchair is beside the van and he's inside. He tells me to go get the walker. I do and I drive him the few blocks to the dentist. They greet him warmly and hustle him in. He seems pretty confident on his walker.

While I'm waiting one of my old friends from my old company (which is officed nearby) comes in. Long time, no see. He wonders if I miss working there. No, I think, I miss not working, during the time that my mother's affairs were put to rest pretty much and my dad was very independent. I ask about his wife (remembering she's a doctor) and his kids (remembering that he has three including twins). He has grown his hair long since I last saw him.

Dad comes out. He needs some kind of repair but has them give him an appointment in a few weeks, hoping to drive himself.

Back at his house, I think maybe I should just go work out. First, though, I clean up his French press from his morning coffee and tidy up a few things. I get in the garbage can. I call a friend who works a bit further north. Maybe we will have lunch while I'm in the neighborhood. She says she already has plans. I can't find one of the tennis balls that I brought to put on his walker so I go to the car to get some more. (I think some of his young and young at heart guests were playing with them.) Certainly I have plenty of old tennis balls rolling around the trunk. When I come back in my friend has called back. I call her and her other friends cancelled. We agree to meet at a Vietnamese place. One of Dad's friends calls and he is bringing over food for lunch and dinner.

I decide to do some chores since I'm now going to be around another hour. I cut the tennis balls for the walker. It is hard to cut the balls even with Dad's very sharp kitchen knife but it gets done and I don't cut myself either. I have a file cabinet to clean out. It contains a lot of things that need shredding. Ancient medicare statements from Mom and such. I find the receipt from my Social Security Card. Unbelievably I still have the original card, too, at home. I also shred old checks from accounts they don't have anymore, stuff like that.

I go have lunch at a Vietnamese place. A rather too large portion of grilled pork and rice. It's tasty, though.

When I go back to Dad's, his friend is there. Dad is giving him a large fern he's cultivated. I ask the guy if he has any duct tape and he fixes the plastic on the antique wheelchair. Dad says he has some but I couldn't find it.

His friend leaves. It is nearly time for the mail. So I work on my file cleaning a bit longer. I fill several sacks with shredded stuff and take them out. I need a staple puller. I begin to be sad that my mother is gone. I think about all the file cleaning chores I need to be working on at home.

A little after two I check for the mail. It is there. It is an ad bundle and a piece of mail from Hospice Austin addressed to someone who, I don't believe, has ever lived here. Worthless. I bid Dad goodbye and go home.

At home, I write an e-mail about Dad's progress and turn my attention to working on our budget. I organize receipts and put them into my spreadsheet. I get all the receipts in, some of the recurring charges on credit cards.

Then it's time to go downtown for a reception for the Ballet Austin dancers. We are early. So we stop in the Four Seasons bar and greet a few people and have a drink.

We go downstairs and snack and drink with our friends from the ballet faithful. Then we go in and see a recap of the season, hear about next season and see awards for the outgoing board president and a dancer who is retiring. Short and sweet.

We head home. It's still early. I could finish my budget job, but I don't. No. I end up reading and watching some TV. Just like always. But at least I'm close to finished with the budget job. I'm personally ready to abandon the budget checking but FFP is not. And I shouldn't be either. It's good to add it up and know where it goes. Not working, it would be easy to have some catastrophe and need to figure out how to live more cheaply...and fast.