Awake at 0630. Admit the vegan surfer kid your daughter seems to like into the gated community. Mumble a quick prayer. Go back to sleep.
0630-0645: Toss fitfully.
0645: Arise and greet the day. And the vegan surfer kid. Who, it turns out, drinks coffee at age 15.
0650: Make a second pot of coffee. Bastard.
0730: Kiss the kids good-bye, the Hobbit too. Feel immensely priviliged not to have to jump into the 30-minute knife fight that is the morning commute.
0735: Look around the empty house regretfully.
0743 – 0845: Read the WSJ. Read the San Diego Tribune. Read the usual blogosupsects. Post some trash, just to keep the plates spinning.
0900: Wait for Skippy-san to do his “Crazy uncle in the attic” routine. Drum fingers.
1000: Decide that maybe playing 18 holes at Torrey Pines is a better use of leave than waiting for Skippy-san.
1030-1500: Play pretty damned average golf. Hit a few good shots. Promise to try this again next year.
1600: Get an 80-minute massage. Because you can.
1900: Pick up the calamari from El Fournaiou for the Kat, because nothing else would do. Have supper with the clan.
2000: Blog a bit.
2030: Wonder what’s going to happen next. Ponder the idea of doing homework. Reject the idea.
2100: Watch “Inside,” a Denzell Walker bank robbery vehicle with SNO – interrupted by a 2215 hastening of school-aged daughters off to nod.