AUSTIN, Texas, November 16, 2005 — I don't feel that bad when I wake up, but my throat is a little scratchy. I have decided that I won't go to water aerobics because I don't want the shock of getting out of the warm pool into the cold wind at the end. My dad called. He said he was going anyway. Good for him. I had some coffee, made the bed, folded some laundry, got dressed for the gym, got together clothes to wear to a meeting. I got to the club just as the class was getting out of the water, shivering. I talked to my dad a minute and then went in and did thirty minutes on the bike and some situps and some leg extensions. Then I showered and I was still way early for my meeting. I sat in the public area,

reading my old papers and calling friends on my cell phone. We'd been told 11:30, but then they were going to have a staff meeting first. The club manager said the meeting was noon, but everyone got an e-mail saying 11:30. I was meeting until two o'clock. When I worked I hated meetings. At least I got to munch chips, a sandwich, soup and fruit while this one went on. And imagine improvements to my club, a place I spend ten or more hours a week enjoying myself.

So it was two o'clock when I got home. I sort of stopped and started on various things, couldn't get rolling on being productive. I got my boring journal published. I drove to the post office and mailed the holiday cards. I folded more laundry.

We went out to two cocktail parties tonight that were at the same time. So we went to one for one hour and the other for the second hour. They were both interesting. The first was at this room at Mars that is a heated patio in the back. I didn't know it was there. The crowd was young and hip and a joy to talk to. We talked about architecture and single malt Scotch with one guy we'd just met. The second was at this new venue in the Mansion at Judge's Hill. We had a little trouble finding it but we will be going back there in two days for another event. Our friend Kevin was singing. We bumped into someone we knew years and years ago. She was interesting as was her current husband and their friends. The parties were interesting but I felt that I was boring. Maybe because I'm still under the weather.

My throat felt a little dry and I'd coughed once while we were out so I took some elixir and veged in front of TV when we got home.

I was so boring today that I bored myself. Why does anyone read this? Why do I write it? I thought about a short story I could write today. The title was "December at the Top." I bet there is no story (or book even) with that title. Why don't I write the fiction I think about? I don't know the answer to that.