I was trying to figure out how long I’ve been retired. In October, it will be two years. And maybe, now, I’m starting to understand what it is.
The first several months (okay, year) of retirement seemed pretty busy and scheduled. Spouse was recovering from a serious injury through most of it. Then his mom had her health issues. I spent a lot of time with her through 2013, and that became part of my routine. Now that routine has to change.
The beauty of retirement is in the small things for me. It’s being about to do housework on a Wednesday instead of Saturday. It’s the idea that I can drive down Highway One to Point Reyes (which I might do today) if I want, at almost any time. It’s walking to the store or the bank during non-peak hours.
The bookstore fills quite a bit of my time, and I love the writers workshop at VOICES. Now that it’s summer, there are a dozen farmers markets to visit, and maybe even some farms. I don’t have to try to fit that in around other obligations.
The funny thing is that weekends have become incredibly crowded. This is because any social get-togethers with people who are still working devolve to those days. It’s shocking how quickly four or five weekends in a month can fill up, while the Tuesdays are sitting there empty and dreamy, full of potential.
I sleep more but I get up earlier than I used to on non-work days. I also watch television shows that I could never stay awake to see before. And, for some weird reason, I listen to more classical music.
I started this off by saying maybe I was beginning to understand what retirement is. I just re-read what I’ve written. I see I’m wrong. I don’t understand it at all.