The first full year of transition into retirement.
The first few mornings I came to my computer at the
early rush hour and looked out my window to the busy thoroughfare on
which I live. There were the lines of cars and buses,
with passengers in suits and office apparel. I laughed.
“Suckers!”
I
had first gone to work as an adult, with the end of a working life
nowhere in sight — nay, unthinkable! — in 1975. I just added it up:
forty-two years, longer than my older son has been alive.
My working life finished Dec. 29, 2017, with no working days left, so January to January is a fair measure of being retired rather than on a weekend.
I first came to retirement with a project and a schedule in mind: a blog I would turn into a book — check that as done — and a plan to walk the 8 blocks to a nearby library with my laptop in a new backpack. There I would edit my work and do some net surfing thanks to taxpayers like me, who delight in paying taxes so long as they go to schools and libraries and such.
Oh, I was also going to go room by room, one a month, chucking all the useless stuff I never had the time to sift from the treasures, then reorganizing the latter in an orderly way.
Those were the best laid plans of mice and men ...
I did complete the blogbook and published it as an ebook in November. You can read about it here Discover How a Faith Became Christianity — Even if You Skipped Sunday School and learn where to get it. (Hint: Google Play, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, other places.)
My walking to the library fell off somewhat.
Instead I gained a volunteer gig at a place called Samaritan Ministry, where I now help folks write their resumes and apply for jobs online.
My cleanup of my home stopped at my study in the third month, having done what could be done to the bedroom and bathroom.
