I've recently changed my work schedule to be on "restaurant time" (a miracle for an office job), and we've thought a good deal about our Mondays off, and how we'd like to spend them as if we were retirees. I've met people who say that work is the ultimate, and that they love it and live for it and wouldn't know what to do with themselves if they weren't at the office. Since we talk so much about retirement and my heart is elsewhere, I will never be able to relate to that mindset.
We've got other things to do.
We're going to sit at the park we've found where airplanes fly overhead as they take off from the airport, and I'm going to finish my Barbra Streisand biography and drink coffee in the mornings on the floral sofa in the living room (of which we stuffed in our minivan a few years back to take across the ferry after purchasing it from an old Bed & Breakfast in Port Townsend). I'm going to plan our Astoria trip and gather blueberries from the blueberry bush. I'm going to actually work on my writing (and stop feeling sorry for myself and using the excuse and that I can't write because I sit in front of a computer all day at work), find a ribbon for my typewriter, ride my bicycle on the road along with traffic (without fearing I'll fall over), write letters to the people I love and watch films while everyone else is at work, because going to the movies on a weekday afternoon is just about the most decadent thing I can think of.
