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.