I almost didn’t write this post. Not because I was too busy, but rather because I was too busy not being busy. This is my seventh day in Phoenix, and I’ve accomplished relatively little since arriving.
Last week’s overnight flight (Friday night/Saturday morning) provided little sleep due to twin meltdowns: An adult a few rows ahead of me and a toddler a few rows behind me. The adult sobbed aloud (“I can’t do this, I just can’t doooooo this….”) every time we hit turbulence. And there was a lot of turbulence.
The toddler screamed for a big chunk of the six-hour flight. They’d get her calmed down and she’d start up again. The mom in me wondered if an ear infection was involved, since she stopped crying once the plane landed.
Either way, I got relatively little sleep. That first day (Saturday) is kind of a blur and did, in fact, involve a nice long nap. But every day since, I’ve found ways to skirt most work in favor of reading, sleeping, eating and watching a ton of TV* with my daughter.
A couple days ago I realized, “This is a trial run at retirement.”
You know, doing whatever you want. Getting up when it damn well suits you. Moving at the pace that seems relevant to the day. Eating when you feel hungry, vs. during a “lunch break.” Reading until your eyes blur. Hanging out with loved ones and talking about everything, or talking about nothing at all if you’d rather be absorbed in an excellent drama. Going to bed when it damn well suits you.
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