Up at 2:30 a.m. after fitful sleeps spanning five hours. Out of bed by 4 a.m. So who cares? You're retired, free as the wind that rattles your windows. Rain may or may not be on the way.
As I contemplate the present day I anticipate working until 7 a.m. on my memoir, going downstairs for breakfast, then coming back up here to rest. Maybe even sleep.
No appointments this morning. I can write. I can sleep. Nobody cares, least of all me.
this afternoon Aidan will come to take me to SF so I can continue the arduous work of throwing away my old life and preserving the seeds of the new. I'm supposed to see my youngest, Julia, today as well before she heads back to college in the East.
Retirement is a strange state for the likes of me. I don't know how to accustomize myself to having nothing much too so. Maybe a new kind of work will find me.
-30-
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