When you are retired you have a lot more time to think about goofy stuff.
Of course I have always thought a lot about goofy things. That is why it will be hard to determine when I finally develop true dementia. My wife won’t know if I am doing crazy things because I am sick or whether it is just stupid husband stuff, as one of her friends calls it.
There is so much to consider. Every morning when I look in the mirror I see a guy with lots of wrinkles but not much gray hair. But I do have a gray mustache. I’m not sure how that happened but neither my mother nor father ever got much gray and they both lived a long time.
It bothers me because it might look like I color my hair since it isn’t gray. But what to do? Get rid of the mustache is one option. But it has been with me since I started college long, long ago. Color it? Hardly. I am way too lazy for that kind of involvement. Go on and not worry about it? Not really my style. Guess I will avoid looking in mirrors. Always good advice.
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There are so many other things to worry about. Like how grateful I am around the middle of December. Not because Christmas is coming but because the enrollment period for Medicare is over and I no longer get 20 to 30 calls a week from people who want me to switch my plans.
Or how about the obvious fact that my body seems to be wearing out and unlike my car, I can’t trade it for a newer model. By now I am taking so much medicine for maintenance that it has become difficult to tell which side effect is coming from which pill. But it has kept me alive so I shouldn’t gripe.
Or how about the fact that most of my favorite rock bands are dead? All that is left are tribute bands whose name I have never heard. Often I haven’t heard of the bands they are playing tribute to either.
I am constantly bombarded with ads in the mail that want to sell me hearing aids. I get a lot of invitations to free meals from people who want to talk to me about my retirement money. But if I did go, I would have to buy hearing aids to hear what they were saying.
When I read the news, there is always one story about no matter how much you have saved, it won’t be enough. They offer advice for people who have saved $500,000 while warning that the average person has less than $30,000.
I worry that I vow to start writing things down so I won’t forget them and then I forget.
I worry that about the only time I am not serving as a cushion for my cats is when I’m changing their litter boxes.
But I stop to realize that everything could be much worse and charge merrily into the new year unconcerned about doing crazy things.