My fallible plans for semi-retirement
My husband, Patrick, says I romanticize life events, like my semi-retirement, but I don’t agree. I think he’s negative and sprinkles acid raindrops of reality on my rose colored progressives.
My theory is he’s jealous he had to postpone reducing his work schedule because apparently, he romanticized about our finances.
Anyway, I’ve read that you need to make plans when you experience more unstructured days of freedom to ensure you don’t grovel in the corner drooling. Or worse, start looking for a full-time job.
Here is a list of my plans with foreshadowing of how some pesky nettles could give the shaft to my Garden of Eden.
I’ll cook healthy meals during the day so we can eat before 8:00 p.m.
Patrick splashes cold water on this fantasy when he says, “I can see what is going to happen. You’ll get an invitation to meet a girlfriend for dinner and leave a box of Captain Crunch on the table with a note that says, “Pour your own damn milk!’”
“Crunch berries or plain?”
“I hate crunch berries!”
“So plain.” (Adds to grocery list).
I’ll grocery shop on weekdays saving Patrick the trouble of going with me.
Patrick is balancing the checkbook and shrieks, “Four hundred dollars for groceries this week! Are we eating caviar and filet mignon morning, noon and night? I better start going with you so you’ll stick to the list.”
“If you think you must.”
I’ll keep the house spotless now that I have time to clean and declutter.
After about a week of drudgery, a sliver of resentment jams into my psyche causing significant pain. I thought I was going to work less, not sign on as a chambermaid.
“Patrick, can we squeeze in a budget item for a cleaning service?”
I’m sure his response includes some boring details about making hard choices with my reduced income, but this is what I hear, “No.”
Undaunted I move to Plan B.
Dangling a wine glass in front of Patrick, I promise to pop the cork on some love nectar as soon as we spend quality time cleaning the house together. I remind him of how much it excites me to see him wearing Playtex gloves while scrubbing the shower.
I won’t need to buy as many clothes.
Who am I kidding? I’m still going to need cute and comfortable clothes for special occasions, i.e., days I wear clothes. And since I’m not going to join a nudist colony that would mean every day.
I’ll shop for sales.
Since I feel nauseated imagining myself traipsing through stores, pawing racks of drab items to find a single gem, I have to confess something. Having more free time is not likely to transform me into someone who loves to shop any more than it will turn me into a gardener or a camping enthusiast. Alternating between J. Jill mail order and Stitch Fix ought to keep me from wearing sweatpants every day.
I’ll save money on gas.
Patrick’s daily inquiry, “Where are you going today? Will it be under or over a four-hour drive? Just curious.”
I’ll get in shape.
The only drawback to this plan is how much time lies before me to exercise later, after I’ve attended to social media, writing, meeting friends for lunch, napping, etc.
I won’t procrastinate.
I feel so much better now that I’ve become more realistic about planning my time. Now, if I could just find a way to improve Patrick’s spirits, I think things would be perfect.
Molly Stevens believes humor is the emollient that soothes life’s rough patches and promotes these convictions in her blog: Shallow Reflections. She is the author of an adult picture book, Boomer on the Ledge, and the creator of Boomer on the Ledge Dolls. You can also follow Molly on Facebook, Twitter, Linkedin, Pinterest, and Instagram.