I'll be up no later than 9, as nature is a mistress best not ignored. This takes me past the computer room, with its irresistable siren song of the early morning's batch of new mail, news, and the day's comic strips online. If I were truly smart and motivated, I'd be up and out of the house by 6 to beat the rush at the gym, and the image forming in your mind of me hurling digital epithets through my keyboard in my underwear, hair unkempt and face unshaven would be slightly less hideous. The next thing you know, it's 11:00 and the need to be presentable for lunch (no shoes, no shirt, no service, natch) becomes overwhelming.
(I really should make more use of my Playstation 2, it really makes this story less frightening.)
Lunch in the neighborhood over the day's newspaper, a stop at the Post Office, and the day's errands, and we're approaching 2:00, which three days of the spring week means a baseball game. In spite of my profession that I should burn the tapes of my days on WMWA (now WGBK-FM) I handle PA announcing duties at home game, and umpire abuse on the road.
That lasts 'till dinner, which fits in between the ongoing effort to make the house look more like a home and less like the bedroom of my childhood writ large, and playback and archiving of whatever the TiVo has captured.
I'm not planning to look for work again for a year or two. So far, my sanity is holding up.