Jan 28, 2010

We had another winter storm yesterday, with moderate, but steady rain over night. The Seafood King and I agreed that if it was still raining this morning, golf would be off. Today dawned to overcast skies and drying pavement. The rain had stopped. The forecast was for continued clearing with a slight chance of more rainfall. I called The Seafood King and we decided to give golf a try. Then I got a call from Some Guy Named Bob which was mostly a pep talk, aimed at making sure I wasn't staying home. Some Guy Named Bob is not a guy who deals well with changes in plans. About the 8th hole the light drizzle became a torrent and after nine we decided to call it quits. I was soaked to the bone. Luckily, because of Some Guy Named Bob's insistence on giving me shirts he buys at the thrift stores, I found a dry shirt in my trunk. Maybe I've never mentioned this before, but Bob is forever buying stuff at the thrift stores. That is more or less his hobby. Bob is a hoarder. I fully expect to see him on the TV show about hoarding. He gives me shirts he finds and thinks I might want. Mostly I just take them to the thrift store next to my work. Telling him to stop is to no avail. But today I was glad for his hoarding. I was watching a documentary today called, The Open Road, about the Baby Boom generation and retirement. The thinking is that Baby Boomers will not be a group looking to make retirement a full-time proposition. According to the experts, many of us will continue to work at something, either because of finances or because we want to remain relevant. We are not a group who is killing time until it kills us. Or so they say. My buddy Lonnie calls me hyperactive because I keep working. He is content to enjoy leisure full-time. I'm just not that way, I guess. I like the hardware store, even if I threaten to quit about twice a day. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

7 comments:

Barbara said...

The urge to go back to work has never hit me since I retired. I'm not sitting around twiddling my thumbs with nothing to do, so I guess it's OK.

I'm glad SGNB keeps you in dry shirts. It probably makes him feel useful.

I can still recall the smell of my wet golf bag when we got rained on out on the course. We were always walking, so the trip back in wasn't so quick. My father never believed in electric carts.

Annie Ha said...

My dad also does not do well with changes of plans.

The Bug said...

Every time you mention your golf buddies it makes me smile - your nicknames are great. I wish I had worked a little harder at what I was going to call Dr. M. Oh well, I'm just not that creative.

Kurt said...

I'd love to work. Do you know of any jobs that don't suck?

Megan said...

My mother was trying to figure out the numbers, and by her latest calculation, she has to keep working until about six months after her funeral bills are paid...

Reya Mellicker said...

Weird spam comment (above).

I don't want to retire, not ever. I can't imagine it would do anything for me except perhaps inspire me to get seriously depressed, or start drinking a lot. When I'm no longer able to work, please shoot me. Thanks.

Bella Rum said...

My husband just told me this morning he plans to work a few days a week till he drops.

Like Bob, I love thrift shops. The secret is to be selective about your junk.