AUSTIN, Texas, November 21, 2005 — The march of time, the inexorable, remorseless, pitiless, relentless passage of time. [Ed. note: Put down the Thesaurus!]

Having a journal exacerbates it. Especially a daily one. You can't conveniently forget your 'wasted days and wasted nights.' [Ed. note: Apologize to Freddy Fender. This entry isn't about love.]

The day was a tempting time sink. Dad called at seven to say he wasn't swimming because it was too cold, he had the sniffles and he hadn't slept well because of the sniffles. I hoped he'd feel better by tomorrow when we are supposed to

go to Dallas. But I secretly felt like I had a reprieve from getting up. But I only turned over for a couple of minutes. Then I got up, got coffee and wasted time on the Internet. Which, now, I have to admit because I have this damnable daily journal. [Ed. note: You also published yesterday's journal admitting you pretty much wasted yesterday, too. You can write daily without giving all these details, you know.]

I went to the gym pretty early. I decided I wouldn't leave until I'd "had a good workout." Whatever that means. I'll be gone until Saturday so I'm going to miss some regular gym work and just be walking, if that. I did fifty minutes on the bike, situps, and some weight stuff. Good workout? I was sweating. My heart rate was elevated. Whatever.

I decided I was going to ship off some of the Lego toys. This would feel like an accomplishment. I filled some of the Lego containers with the stuff I wanted to send, tidying things up a bit or making a bigger mess, couldn't decide which. I hauled about eight or ten cubic feet of Legos to the car. I drove to my favorite pack and mail and after several trips got everything inside. It went fast because I gave the girl my phone number and my niece's name on the first trip and she was measuring, weighing and calculating all along. I felt that brief downsizing euphoria. The guest room is still a mess, though, with Lego scattered about and other stuff. Tip of the iceberg. But, as my friend SuRu says, you have to toss the tip of the iceberg, too.

I wanted some Pinot Noir to give my uncle and for Thanksgiving drinking so I headed to Grapevine Market. The first two value Pinots they recommended had only one bottle left but I finally got six bottles. I went home. By now it was lunch time so I made nachos and read the paper a little.

It was time to pack. I wondered if I should pack without the benefit of the usual packing list. Just five days, four nights. Nah. Made a list from my master. In between packing we had a visit with someone looking at the traffic situation on our street caused by the sewer construction.

I got everything packed. We had leftovers for dinner. (I had the chicken/rice that FFP made.) We decided to watch a Netflix movie. We had rented Liberty Heights. It was a little sappy, but it was satisfying in that innocent 1950's period piece way. It is hard to say if it was sappy or dead on since my experience of the period was spent on a farm near a small town where I was mostly only exposed to white Christians.

We then watched CSI: Miami. I swear, I'm done with that show. If I hear David Caruso say "Alex" or "Mr. Wolfe" in that slow, drawn-out overwise way one more time I'll scream. And the plots are so far-fetched. Geez. William Petersen on the original is more tolerable. He's convincing as an asociable, hearing-impaired savant. Even if his banter is irritating.

I finished reading the papers and watched old M*A*S*H episodes off Hallmark. Sadly, they are less sappy than David Caruso. I stayed up too late which I will regret when I get up and finish getting ready to go to Big D.

I'm going to try to stay 'online' while I'm in Big D. We will see how the hotel's Internet service works.