I’m married to an old fart.
Not just any old fart. A real, live, vibrant, ambitious old fart.
So when he talks about retirement and moving to a quieter place, I get irritated.
Why? It’s because I’m nowhere near retirement. In fact, I sense that as I get closer to what’s considered “retirement age”, I will likely be bored with the typical things I believe “retired” people do.
I’m sure my readers will correct me, but when I think of retired people, I think of my grandparents.
Grandmothers, in particular. Both grandmothers, as they aged, “entertained” me with stories of woe and all the ailments they bragged about. When it got to the point of another retired person also joining in on the conversation, it became a competition for who had the worse ailment and who stuck it out in the hospital the longest.
Naturally, the only way I could endure the conversation was if it put myself in a meditative state, where my mind was calm and at rest, when I forced myself to be thankful for my health and youth.
Then I think again. I can’t stand the traffic or the lack of manners of people these days. I love staying at home, avoiding crowds and stinky, rude people.
Maybe there’s something to retirement, or at the very least, being married to a retired person. (As long as he doesn’t pester me to also retire.) We can golf, travel, take up hobbies…
… wait a minute. I’m getting annoyed again, this time with myself.
I love my work. I love the real estate business and our Clients. I love the community in which I live and work and wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. I love our home and our dogs and I also, surprisingly, love the fact that my husband won’t really “retire”.
I’d miss him.