Mammy and I went to the home of one of her clients and attempted to modernize his computer system. Some things worked, some things didn't. USB is nifty but immature: easy when it works out of the box, impossible when it doesn't. Then we wiped the hard drive of her Performa 6115CD, the computer on which I got started on the Internet. No tears were shed.

I stood by for the earlier 2:10 flight, and was waved in immediately. It couldn't have been easier. Okay, it could: I could have been rolled onto a conveyor belt and placed in my seat.

When I returned to Cleveland to find that schmonz.com was still up, I was ready to destroy the old hard drive. I threw it at the ground twice from the third-floor fire escape; no visible damage. We pulled out a sledgehammer and took turns bludgeoning: Tony, Dutton, Steve, me, repeat. Finally we busted it but good. I kept a deformed platter as a souvenir.

I got to meet Hank's dad, come to visit his son at school and drive a bunch of us to Penn State for the tournament. We left around midnight. The whole back seat of the car was soon asleep. Also the people in it (Hot Dog, Sarah, and me). The sun rose in central Pennsylvania over us making wrong turns looking for the motel. When we found it, it was early morning. For a few hours of slumber, Roff, Hank, Sarah, and I squoze into the bed. Hank's dad, probably wisely, wrote off sleeping altogether and went off in search of coffee.