A friend in his 70’s was patting himself on the back for having
completed a few days of productivity. He was proud of acting like a responsible
adult, actually getting shit done. Apparently riding a wave of “fuck off” days
as he called them, is more his norm.
A good boy, but only briefly.
That made me smile with admission of the fact that after I
fully retired four years ago, every day for me is a “fuck off” day. Never
inserting a “responsible adult” day, I’m like Snoopy lost in dance.
A permanent Rumspringa.
Sore from pinching myself about today, the only productivity
day I’ll even consider, is tomorrow.
Satchmo sings in a never-ending loop:
“I see skies of blue, and clouds of white
The bright blessed days, dark sacred nights
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world”
If I had known it was going to be this good, I would have
retired in my twenties.
