Friday, April 5, 2019

Read Your Shakespeare

A powerful storm just blew through.  I heard it coming for about twenty minutes before it arrived.  Then the rain, the thunder, and then. . . "POP!"  The lights dimmed, went out, and came back on.  The power box outside my house was the source of the pop.  I was certain some circuit had blown, some electronics had been irrevocably damaged, but as of yet, I've found nothing.  Still my skin crawls.  Popping electricity is never a good sound.  

Nor, for me, is the rain.  The roofing man comes at nine this morning.  I will have to deal with that.  

My tax guy called.  

I have medical bills that are overdue.  

Adulting, as they say, is very, very hard.  I am too old to begin now.  But I can't figure out how to avoid it.  I've never learned the lessons one needs to learn.  I've been frivolous and cavalier.  You can't be that so much any more, at least I can't.  There is more paperwork with retirement.  The corporation has taken care of everything so far, the money, the insurance, retirement.  Now they just hand me a folder full of papers and tell me "good luck."  I don't know how to do any of this.  

I'm good at buying cameras.  Nothing about that is in the folder.  

I thought retirement was going to be about eating well, exercising, meditating, writing, and taking photographs.  I can see now that it is all going to be about worry.  

Should I drink so much coffee?  Am I getting enough fruit and nuts and vegetables?  I should probably eat more fish.  And alcohol?  I'll need to consult my physician.  

Or my swami.  

I've had a good run, but poor old Uncle Joe is just a metonym.  Old people have had it.  Even Elizabeth Warren.  

I should have read my Shakespeare more closely, I guess.  He told the tale.  

All's well that ends well.  

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