After years of working, which in spite of being just plain hard at times was often a lot of fun, and several years of retirement, it’s still difficult for me to just do nothing.Too many days of sitting around the house and it feels like I’m just marking time till the Grim Reaper finds my condo.
So even though yesterday was a bit frantic, I was glad of it. A tee time of 9:20 in Connecticut meant leaving the house almost an hour ahead to allow travel time and sorting-out-golf-equipment-and-paying time. I was meeting my Tuesday crew. J, my golf partner in crime, and I have been looking for a couple of other ladies who could meet a specific criteria of being not especially good players but good company. We hit the jackpot. I recruited Elaine, a retired Grand Poobah of nursing, and J recruited Donna, a retired accountant. The most brilliant part of this arrangement is that now even if one or two of us has another event, the remaining people still get to play. And they’re good for me in another way since they prefer to walk the 9 holes, thus shaming me into giving up my slug tendencies to zip around in a golf cart.
As usual, we had a lovely time, alternately cheering each other on and helping each other fish our balls out of shrubbery and streams.
The frantic part of the day came at 12:03 when I had to get from there to my house (1/2 hour away), shower, then turn around again and get to lunch with another set of friends at 1:00 at a location 20 minutes away. Amazingly, I arrived only 5 minutes late. It all worked out, since knowing I might be rushed, they had meandered and got there after me.
Over our pizza, we almost depressed ourselves with conversations of global warming, the rise of violence (thank you, Trump!), and drought, but we finished up with clothes, color choices, and nutty neighbors. Armageddon would have to wait for another day.
It was weird packing so much into one day, so once home, I didn’t feel the least bit guilty about frittering away the rest of the afternoon.