It’s been one year since my retirement, and unexpected health issues notwithstanding, it’s been what I’d hoped for. I don’t miss working at all. Dreams of sleeping in every morning were quickly forgotten since Ben still has to be up and out of here by 7 am. I do occasionally go back to bed after he’s left for the day, but it’s been rare. It’s far more common for me to lay down in the afternoon for a couple hour nap—assuming the dogs let me.
The mere thought of going back to work gives me a case of the icks.
Most surprising since I had what I thought were good relationships with my immediate supervisor and colleagues is the absolute indifference and radio silence I’ve gotten from them when I have reached out. I mean, I considered them friends—work friends, yes, but still friends. I called to wish my old sup happy birthday last spring and it was almost as if he couldn’t be bothered. I reached out to another colleague prior to my surgery last September and he wished me well, in the most dispassionate, disconnected tone I’ve ever heard. I haven’t bothered following up with either of them, and of course, no one has reached out to me. So fuck ’em.
I have friends from previous employment who have stayed with me over the years, most notably my friend Cindy, whom I met while working at Phoenix Baptist hospital those many years ago. We chat every few days and—at least prior to my swallowing issues—used to get together every other month or so to share Mexican food. I’m her tech go-to, and she’s my medical go-to.
My days have settled back into a semi-routine. Not having one was the most difficult thing I faced. Yes, the world is my oyster as they say, but I still like some regularity.
After I pull myself out of bed, “eat,” and get ready, every other day (because a large iced latte will last me two days) I run out with the doggos for caffeine and pup cups and then spend the rest of the morning in my “office,” online, either working on this here blog thingie, or subjecting myself to Reddit, Tumblr, Instagram, and the news from various sources,
Sometimes I run downtown to the library and see if there’s anything in their CD collection I might want to hear. Back in the day, it was how I substantially expanded my musical tastes. I occasionally will burn a few Minidiscs when I get home, or make labels for ones I’ve already recorded.
After “lunch,” I generally retire to the living room and get some serious cuddle time with the doggos while watching YouTube or Netflix or whatever catches my attention.
Then there’s the infrequent afternoon naps…
Every week I have two PT appointments, always back to back on the same day (although not necessarily on the same day of the week) which actually helps me keep track of what fucking day of the week it is. (An ability that apparently atrophies when you’re not always counting down the days until Friday.)
My one goal—originally manufactured to answer the question I was often asked prior to retiring, “What are you going to do?” (because apparently you are expected to be doing something after retirement and “taking each day as it comes” was an unacceptable answer) was to get out and do more photography. I even bought new batteries for my DSLR, hoping to dust it off and put it to use. But practically that would involve getting out to begin with and with everything going on in the world, I have no desire to be out and about.
A lot of people will say this is boring, and I completely understand. But for me, it’s perfect, and what I was looking forward to for many years prior to retiring.
