By William Smith
Retirement is within the air. I shall be 62 years outdated this November. My pals are vanishing like socks in a dryer—sooner or later they’re complaining about spreadsheets and conferences, and the following they’re sending me selfies from a hammock in Costa Rica with captions like “Dwelling my finest life.” I must be impressed. Motivated, even. However as a substitute, I’m simply questioning who actually would wish to do this.
Don’t get me unsuitable. I’m thrilled for them. They’ve earned their lounge pants and early chicken specials. However me? I’m nonetheless out right here dragging myself to work like a raccoon rummaging by means of the leftovers of capitalism—and weirdly sufficient, loving it.
Why haven’t I joined them in Retirementland™? As a result of I’m not accomplished but. I nonetheless get a bizarre rush from color-coding my calendar. I nonetheless high-five myself after I resolve an issue that’s stumped everybody else for days. (Sure, I high-five myself. Don’t choose me.) Retirement appears like closing the e book, and I’m nonetheless mid-chapter. Presumably mid-paragraph. Presumably yelling on the plot twist.
As bizarre because it sounds, I thought of going again to school and achieve information on topics that I prevented after I was in faculty the primary time round.
Plus, I’ve seen what occurs to some folks once they retire. They begin naming their houseplants and getting emotionally hooked up to jigsaw puzzles. One pal instructed me he reorganized his storage “for enjoyable.” For enjoyable. That’s after I knew: I’m not emotionally prepared for that type of freedom.
Additionally, let’s discuss timing. Simply because my pals are retiring doesn’t imply I’ve to swan dive into the golden years alongside them. This isn’t synchronized swimming. That is life. And my rhythm is extra interpretive dance than precision routine. I’ll retire after I really feel like I’ve wrung each final drop of pleasure and chaos from this wild journey referred to as work—or at the least after I begin complicated my inbox with my air fryer.
And what would I even do with all that free time? I’d in all probability find yourself beginning a podcast for my pets. Or alphabetizing my spice rack each Tuesday simply to really feel one thing. No, thanks. I like my schedule barely chaotic and my mind reasonably scrambled by a great problem.
So sure, my pals are off residing their flip-flop goals, sipping mojitos and taking part in bocce ball with wild abandon. In the meantime, I’m nonetheless right here, using the caffeine wave and pretending I didn’t hit “reply all” once more. And actually? That’s precisely the place I wish to be.
Retirement will come. However till then, I’m nonetheless clocked in, barely frazzled, probably over-caffeinated, and utterly unready to commerce my workday weirdness for golf carts and gardening gloves. Lengthy dwell the hustle (and the snack merchandising machine).
