Full Days

 

          One thing about being a working person who’s retired is the urge to feel a purpose to your day.

(Hello, four books published on Amazon) At first, it’s glorious to wake up with absolutely nothing planned, no deadlines, nowhere you have to be.

          Add to that a move from a house on an acre and a half of land – all of which needed cleaning and maintenance – to a condo half that size with a built-in landscaping crew. All that free time can be a project in itself. And I’m a poor knitter, have no desire to sew my own clothes again or make another quilt, and crosswords only fill up so much time.

          Yesterday I over-compensated a bit.

          I spent the morning playing pickleball in the decommissioned elementary school around the corner and then came home, inhaled some lunch, threw on another set of clothes, and played golf for several hours.

          I need to remember that just because your brain says you’re one age, your body has a very different opinion. And your body has more votes.

          At least today should have less walking and leaping about.

          This morning I’m out to volunteer at the library, swing back to pick up a book from a neighbor for the next book club meeting, and then off to the grocery store to pick up provisions for company on Friday.