Sunday, November 06, 2011

What the...

11/06/2011

Here I sit in my favorite chair in the family room watching Washington Redskins lose another football game on the muted TV as The Nancy naps in her chair, and thinking.  My thoughts are all over the place. 

I have thought about the game I went to see in Morgantown yesterday where my adopted WVU Mountaineers blew a game they should have won, and how much I wish The Nancy and I would have returned to The Farm last night after the debacle instead of spending $100+ to stay at a local hotel.  I again revisited the many thoughts I have mulled over concerning my impending retirement and my very quickly approaching last day – November 18th.

Just to think Monday, November 21st will be the first day I have not had a fulltime job since March 1962 is a bit overwhelming, to say the least, and as much as I am looking forward to it I am nonetheless scared shitless of the thought of “retirement.” I am trying to plan for it, that is, what to do to fill the time; I want to fill my days with stuff.  But the burning question is what stuff?

I would like to set aside some time to write the great American novel.  All I need is a story, and that other thing – talent.  Can I write a novel built on bullshit?  You have to admit, as do I, it might be a daunting task, though I do have somewhat of a background in “standup philosophy” (Mel Brooks – History of the World, Part I).

My days might be filled with and built around sex, but that is merely a pipedream these days.  Some of you are aware I talked about a retirement career as a geriatric porn star, but that, too, won’t materialize.  Equipment failure, I am simply just not up to it.  Another option might be body building, though I wonder if I have a functioning one to work on.

I will do a lot of reading, mostly history, but with an occasional novel thrown in for entertainment, but how much of that can one do?  I read ten, fifteen pages and I am also ready for a nap – read ten, nap twenty.  I have thought about painting, as in art, but my artistic ability may be more limited to walls rather than canvas, other than paint by numbers. 

As I have said before, with just nine more working days left it is way too late to reconsider the retirement thing, and I don’t wish to do it anyway.  This is a rollercoaster of emotions I am on at this moment, and the peaks and valleys grow each day.  The undulations are wearing on me.  I suppose this stress is natural, but it is a touch disconcerting for me.  I am not used to stress of any kind.

And that is all I have to say about that…