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....