Community

A writing web site I recently joined challenged me to think of a community I recently joined. Since I'm a confirmed introvert, joining communities is not something I do well - or do at all,actually. And my husband and I haven't moved recently. We've lived in the same house in the same town for almost 30 years.  So my initial reaction was to say that I haven't joined any new communities recently. Didn't plan to, either.
Then, I went to the health club to work out -- at 10:00 in the morning.  My usual workout time is somewhere between 4 and 5 in the morning. But, today, because it was very cold at 4:30, I didn't go work out until 10:00. A whole new group of people were in the gym.  I have a set of "gym buddies" that I see in my early morning workouts. But, these people, the 10am work out people, are different.   

This is a new community for me -  the community of mid-morning, leisurely exercisers. People who don't have to haul themselves out of bed before day light to get a workout in.  People who move more slowly, slump a little more, limp a little more, have a little less hair and a little more gut. People with more time.  One group of guys sat at the counter and told bad jokes to each other.  The owner of the gym was there, and took time to chat with me about our shared dislike of shopping. I even grabbed a schedule of classes thinking that maybe I'd sign up for a zumba class or something new. 

So, yes, I did join a new community today.  I'll probably go back to the early morning group most mornings. I like my early morning gym buddies, so I'll probably go back to the early morning group most mornings for a while.  But I also like the looks of this newer, more laid back, slower community.  The ones who have time to tell jokes and chat.  The retirees.

Unlisted

One thing we all know about retirement is that you quit work, right?  Well, right...sort of.  I'm finding that quitting some of the practices I used when I worked is a different story.

I'm a list maker.  I've always been one.  I make lists for shopping (like everyone in the universe), trips, phone calls, appointments,well, you get the idea. The lists helped keep feelings of being overwhelmed at bay. If I put something on a list, then I knew I would take care of it.  The lists helped me remember what needed to be done.  If it was on the list, it wouldn't be forgotten.  Plus,  who doesn't get a great deal of satisfaction from  crossing items off the list as they are completed?  That never happened to me much because I was forever adding things to my lists.  The lists grew in proportion to the amount of stress in my life at the time, I believe.  It's a little known fact, too, that list items reproduce in the dark.

Now, though, I've discovered a dark side of lists.  They are slave drivers.  Since I've been retired, I've kept up my habit of making lists and crossing items off as I completed them.  But, the lists dominate my life at a time when I should be doing what I want not what I am obliged to do.  Too often, I find myself putting off things I'd love to do so that I can do the things on the list first.  Do I have a good book to read?  Complete the list first.  Want to begin a new quilting project? Nope, wait until the list is done.  This does not make me happy.  

Last night, I was running over my undone list in my head while I was waiting for sleep. I thought about those lists (I have a book full of them) and how unhappy they made me.  I decided to quit my list making habit.  I'm quitting it cold.  Ironically, I realized that I don't really need the lists anyway.  Small things, I will just do when I think of them. That's more efficient, anyway, because it takes less time to just do them than it does to write them on my list.  Bigger things (like Christmas shopping or calling my mother), don't need to be written down because I really won't  forget them. 

What a relief.  Unlisted!

Big Numbers

Lately, I've been thinking about numbers.  Big numbers.  Big numbers that relate to my life so far. 

So far, I have lived through 64 years, 3,072 weeks, 21,504 days, 516,096 hours (well, OK, I was asleep during some of those), and 30,965,760 minutes.  30 million minutes? I've been adopted by seven dogs and four cats, lived in four states and six houses, and visited four foreign countries, including Canada. Counting could get depressing.   

I remember talking to my grandmother one day, when she said "I'm 78 years old, and  I don't know where the years have gone."  She sounded wistful and sad.  I was 27 at the time, a little uneasy about what she said, but not too much.  My life went on; hers went on; and we never talked about it again.  But her words stuck in my mind.  Obviously, because here I am about to say, "I've lived 30 million minutes. Where did they go?"

Wherever they went, there have been lots of happy moments in all those years, hours, and minutes.  Maybe more than I deserved, certainly more than I remember.  I know that I don't have 64 years in front of me to pay better attention to the good things in my life.  I'll just have to try harder so that, should I reach 78, I'll have a better idea where the time went.

Social Security?

So far, there are lots of weird things about being retired.  Little moments that catch me up and make me wonder how I got here. But, one of the weirdest things right now is that I am drawing Social Security.

Isn't that what old people do?  My mother (88 years old) draws Social Security. All her buddies in their 80's draw Social Security.  Social Security was established originally as a way to help support people when they got too "old" and frail or sick to work. Too old, when Social Security started, was around 65.

Hey!  I'm not that "old" yet? Well, that's what I think, anyway.  I am close to 65, sure, but I'm not "old"...like the original definition of Social Security recipients.  I still have all my teeth, my hearing, and my sight.  Sixty-five isn't old - it's next year!

But I am drawing Social Security, and I'm not sure I'm comfortable with it.  First, of course, is because I don't see myself as an oldster needing support. And second, because I know what a financial drain the whole Social Security system is on our country's finances.  We are approaching a point where we might not be able to support Social Security any longer.  That's a worry.  Third, because I know that the Social Security I am now getting is paid, indirectly, by my son's Social Security taxes, just like my mother's Social Security was paid through mine. Taking money from my son and his generation seems not quite right to me.

I still take the money, though. That's a puzzlement....

Need to Clean?

I knew it when it was time for me to retire.  I'd had enough and it was time to go.  Now that I'm around home more, I feel, with almost the same certainty, that I need to clean.  Not the ordinary kind of cleaning - vacuuming, dusting, mopping kind of cleaning. But cleaning out, clearing out, making space in my house.

And why not?  Retirement has made space in my life that I've never had before. I now have time to spread out into.  Time to spend on things I like to do.  Just time to be.

I need space in my house, too. Not that I'm a hoarder or anything like that.  We've lived in our house for over 25 years, and we have accumulated a normal amount of stuff.  Some of it we accumulated deliberately. Some of it we accumulated because we didn't have time or the energy to get rid of it.  That's what junk drawers are for, right?  "Temporary storage" that never is really temporary.

I don't really want to do the cleaning myself.  I'm not good at getting rid of things if I'm left to do it alone.  I spend too much time mulling over possible uses for whatever, and saving things I don't need to save.  That's how those junk drawers got filled in the first place.

So, just like I picked a date and retired, I guess I'll have to pick a closet and get started. I know it's time.

Lightening Up - Part I

We've lived in our current home for over 25 years. We are not hoarders - or I never thought we were. Until I retired and starting spending more time at home. 

We have, despite our best efforts, packed away quite a bit of stuff.  The other day, I opened one of the 5 or 6 junk drawers in the house and found 5 key rings, 2 new watch batteries separated from their packaging (the packaging was there, too), 10 rubber bands, a pad of golf ball markers with my husband's name on them, some note cards I intended to give away for a gift someday, 3 dead pens, a Skipbo game, and numerous rusty paper clips.  Stuff.  I can only guess what's lurking in the cupboard over the closets. 

The house feels as heavy to me as my working life felt.  I long for empty drawers and bare closet floors.  We have another house in North Carolina that isn't laden with stuff.  Part of the sense of  lightness I feel when I'm there is because of the emptiness of the place. We have empty shelves, empty closets,  and only one junk drawer in the whole place.  I want this house to be like that house.

But I don't really want to do the cleaning out myself.  I'm very bad at throwing things of sentimental or potential value away when I'm on my own.  If I have to go through things, I keep more than I throw away...even when I've steeled myself to the task.  Can't I just hire someone to come in with a big dumpster, open my closets (and those junk drawers) and toss everything out?  Without asking me to look things over? Or better yet, when I'm not even here? 

Retirement has brought time and space to my life. The stress that wore me down at work is gone; the angst about saving enough money to retire is gone;  the responsibilities I have are easier to handle with more time to handle them in.  I have time and space now.  I want that same space in my house. 

Perhaps, just like I picked at date to retire and then retired;  I just need to pick a closet and start dumping.  Yeah, it will be as easy as that!