I’ve reached the age of retirement. Retiring, in my family, is tantamount to suicide; a rather PC suicide but suicide none-the less. Not a single male in my family has survived more than two years after retiring.
With roughly six months left to live, by family reckoning, I thought I would reflect on this terminal lifestyle I walked into.
My day begins at 3:20, yes that’s am. Its at that time that Duchess (our 17 year old pup) wants her morning walk. My own aging bladder allow me to appreciate her request. We’ll stop at the top of the stairs where I can give proper attention to her ears and chin, stroking each in turn and discussing the day’s plans; at which point there will be a gathering of the entire extended family: Calie (the Calico) situated midway down the stairs, Poe, the raven (had to throw that in) black mutt of a cat at my right and Alix the mischievous gray tabby that keeps trying to push me down the stars.
Daily duties: walk the Duchess, very very early, feed the critters, make coffee, wake the SWMBO (She Who Must Be Obeyed, borrowed from Mr. Mortimer) and see her off to work.
Off to work, taking the car, the only car (downsizing), she takes the only vestige of independence known to man. “If you need to go anywhere, hon, call my folks. They’ll be glad to take you.” At the mercy of the SWMBO’s 86 year old parents.
I’ve not been to a movie since my retirement party. The thought of the SWMBO’s mom stepping out of her car, gliding over to me, with the aid of her walker, “Michael, wait out front after the movie and stay under cover if its raining. Do you have your phone?” I saw my mother the first day of second grade placing a sign on my back that said, “Please Bully Me”.
I’ll wait, In Demand is cheaper and far less humiliating.
After an exciting start to the day, there’s the dishes, laundry, ironing, working in the yard, working on the yard, battling the yard and after using every weapon at my disposal, the yard is winning. “Hon (guess who’s speaking), why don’t you just hire someone.”
I do all the work and some guy with a pick up and a fast mower takes all the gory. Never. I will conquer the yard! Hopefully, I’ve six months to whip it in shape and the SWMBO will have the insurance money to “hire someone”.
Oops, she just called, folks over for dinner, got to clean (and really really wax the halls, her mum said she used to love to skate).
Please look at my other blog, “The Family Jewel’s” about much more interesting people. Thanks, God bless.