I did not go for a ride this morning. I could not wake up fast enough. So I took a ride in the evening. In between I read some things. I also wrote some things, sent out Emails that will help orchestrate the giant journalism workshop of the fall and made a list for all of the rest of the things I need to do this week. They include … there’s a lot of stuff on that list.

Wiped out one of my browsers. Browsers, like my inboxes, have become my online To Do list. If the tabs are still open — and I love the tabs — then attention is still required. Presently I have three browsers open, the one in which I surf, which is at present also being overrun by dissertation things, and two for paper ideas. As much as I love tabs, I wish I could close them faster because I love to close tabs.

It isn’t putting the check in the box, a level of psychic joy I’ve never been able to appreciate, but the disappearance of the thing. You, sir, have been closed. Vanquished is that search on political action committees. I banish the to the under realms, the places the Tron characters wouldn’t even go.

It’d be nice if a little poof of smoke popped up when I clicked the X.

We received a delivery this evening, a new mattress and box spring had arrived for the guest room. We have a queen frame and it has been holding a regular size for some time. Now, we figured, was the time. The Yankee found a deal, but I suggested checking another place. Her first deal stood. She found a coupon. I suggested driving around and doing a bit of window shopping.

The first place we visited stuffed their mattresses with the tender locks of unicorn hair, and that is the only way the prices can be explained. This was the place, I recalled, where I bought a mattress when I moved in my freshman year. We’d unloaded the U-Haul and set out to shop. Being exhausted, the first one I fell upon was declared the winner. And it worked for a good long while. I’ve either donated it or it is elsewhere in the family, I don’t recall, but the point was that it was cheap. And that same place had no such option now.

Just down the street, a par five away, we found the place with our coupon. We found the expansive clearance section. We tried every flat surface. We discovered one in the proper size, which became $100 cheaper if we turned down the frame, sheets and pillows. Done and done. We pronounced we had a coupon. They offered to deliver it for a song. We sang.

We realized we did not have the coupon with us at the time. “No big deal,” the guy said. “When would you like it delivered?”

We got it for about 38 percent less than the original find. I fully expect for it to dissolve over night.

Checking. Nope. Still there.

Anyway, the guys show up, two young men they pulled off fraternity row, and they were stunned to find the old mattresses carefully stacked next to the door. They big up the old mattress and carry it out. They grabbed the old box spring and toted it away. They bring in the replacements.

So you guys have it under control?

“We’ve done this before.”

“A few times.”

And then they were gone, off to do whatever mattress delivery guys do when they aren’t tearing plastic off your new purchase.

I spread out the blankets and tried the new setup. Our guests will no doubt be appreciative. If the thing doesn’t dissolve over night.

Set out for a ride just after quitting time. The road I choose was necessarily busy. So I called an audible, pedaled my way to the first stop sign, took a right and dashed off into the countryside. Well, dashed is a kind word. There are two little hills in that direction, both of which wore me down. But I got over the top of each, collected my breath and, as I often do, questioned my sanity. Down the hills in a proper tuck position, just hoping that the momentum will get me part of the way up the next one. And so on it goes.

I stopped at one point for a drink and a photograph.

And here a woman stopped and asked me for directions. I knew the place, but not it’s location relative to where I was standing. I told her to keep going and look on her right, thinking that if she hadn’t passed it from whence she came, it has to be just down there in the direction she’s heading.

She continued on straight, I went the opposite direction. Down a hill, back into the sun, rounded a curve, and there’s the soccer complex she’s looking for. Terrific. Just as I make it there, she actually passed me again. If I’d only been a bit faster she would have never had the occasion to see me on the road again. Brushing me with the mirror must have been tempting.

So, if you run across this, ma’am, I’m sorry. I’m not sure how long one is supposed to feel bad about giving the wrong directions, but be assured I’ll regret it for at least twice that length of time.

Made it home just as it got dark, marking a 26 mile ride, and just in time for dinner. Food, talk, scanner problems, a little television, some more reading and now this.

… Still there.