The DI team took a solid third ... out of three teams. Pretty much what I'd expected, but I'm not going back down that road. Now comes the recovery.
My cunning plan was to spend yesterday doing as little as possible. Of course, it was a cunning plan, which meant that it was doomed to failure from the start. Things had to be done. The cat box needed cleaning. The junk from the weekend needed to be removed from the car. My computer was in dire need of an error check and defragging.
Paul spent a little time on his motorcycle and managed to fix a nagging problem. We took the cats out for a visit to the back yard - at least until they started to squirm in our arms. Went up to The Londoner in McKinney for lunch and back down to Fry's where we bought a magazine and some Dust-Off. What big spenders. Dinner was Chinese take-away in front of the television, watching twom episodes of Remington Steele. Watched part of the closing ceremonies of the Olympics. Am I the only one puzzled over the vact that they celebrated extinguishing the flame with Ricky Martin and the bondage girls? Those women looked as though they had escaped from a billboard on I-35.
I mostly slept through the night for a change. I didn't get to sleep until about 12:30, but I managed to sleep straight through until whatever it is that wakes me up about 6:15. I suspect it's a loud alarm in a neighboring house: just loud enough that I wake up, but not so blaring as that my brain registers the source of the noise.
Today I must spend catching up with work, laundry and a host of other things. The question is whether or not I have the energy. The work and laundry have to be done, and I must get gas in the car. Everything else, I suspect, can take a back seat. That's the big problem with tournament season: I end up with too much on my plate and no time in which to take care of it all.
But it's over.