Metro-East Living

Retirement is easy. It’s keeping everything straight that’s difficult.

My, my, but time does fly, especially when you are on deadline.

Since I retired nearly two years ago, I haven’t had much to do with deadlines. Oh, there are the ones that no one avoids, like tax payment deadlines, electric bills and doctor appointments.

But otherwise life is pretty darn easy. When I first came back to write once a week, naturally I had a weekly deadline. Now it’s every other week, but there still seems to be a deadline every time you turn around.

The days get mixed up easier. If you don’t believe that, then retire and see how confusing it can get.

Maybe the worst part of retirement is finding things to complain about. When you work, there is plenty. And working means there isn’t time to do much around the house so there is that to complain about.

But now I have only myself to blame when something goes wrong. I am my own boss and a pretty awful one at that.

2020 Wally Spiers

There are always the old favorite compIaints, like kids who play their music too loud. And I can always gripe about Medicare and how I don’t understand it. But to be honest, I just go about my business and they pay most of the medical bills. I don’t know how it works and I don’t want to.

The most irritating part about Medicare is having to recycle all the literature I am getting about changing policies right now. I’m not even sure who handles mine but apparently they are doing an OK job. Why mess with success?

There very well might be a better deal out there but I’m sure there are worse deals as well. Let sleeping dogs lie I always say.

Anyway, that all may change as lawmakers get busy improving things. But that at least will give me something to gripe about, besides the increasing cost of senior meals at restaurants.

Besides, I have a lot of issues to worry about. For example, when do I stop referring to my elders as older people? What is the cut off age? I don’t feel that old, but apparently I became a senior citizen when I got to 65.

My wife’s grandpa always referred to going to the old folks home to deliver the eggs his 2,000 chickens laid. He was in his 80s at the time and older than many of the people in there.

Like the T-shirt says, “I knew I would get old, but not this fast.”

After all, 65 is the new 45, don’t you know?

Maybe the worst part of retirement is finding things to complain about. When you work, there is plenty. And working means there isn’t time to do much around the house so there is that to complain about. But now I have only myself to blame when something goes wrong. I am my own boss and a pretty awful one at that.

And exactly how goofy do I have to get before I’m considered senile? I have never been very stable but I seem to forget more and more these days. Maybe it’s just a matter of remembering only what is important as we get older and our brains get crammed with too much information.

The other day I was watching a World Series game with friends when someone asked when the last no-hitter was pitched in the Fall Classic. I immediately responded 1956. Someone wondered whether I was just bluffing an answer or if that was true. Of course, I said. Don Larsen, perfect game, 1956. Who could forget that?

But last week I had to go to my computer banking account to make sure I had paid my property taxes because I couldn’t remember.

I guess the fact that I even can bank by computer should give me some solace for the future. But I’m drawing the line at as many of these changes as I can.

Maybe. Old people get to change their minds, if they can remember.

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