A Bad Day Retired

Have you seen the bumper sticker that says, “A bad day fishing is better than a good day working”?

While my retired life seems blissful, I find myself pausing during a Silver Sneakers exercise class to ponder,  “Is this life really better than those stimulating days when I could point to work projects marked off the “to do” list?” 

Oh, I see you worker bees out there buzzing at the thought of a bad day of leisure.  But that would be ignoring the pressure I confront often, well maybe occasionally.   

Like when the line at Starbucks is two deep at 2pm.  Of course, there was the really bad time when the afternoon Colorado Rockies baseball game was rained out.   Then I had to go to some Blake Street watering hole and test various hoppy beverages.   And, don’t forget the frustration I felt when the library didn’t have the Stieg Larson book…again. 

When I analyze my retiree frustration, I find that it sometimes involves noticing things I never had time to see during those 70 hour work weeks, like Democrats … and Republicans.   Or Geraldo and  Nancy Graceless. Dust bunnies large enough to lift the sofa off the hardwood floor and closets still home to clothes the kids outgrew in 1980 round out the list of “Umm, when did that happen.”

Traveling can also be a pain for the retiree.  Like when the Master Card can’t sustain yet another grandchild visit.  Or, in order to cash in my Rapidly Free Flight points, I slowly flew to Phoenix, El Paso, and Wichita Falls before landing in New Orleans.   And then there’s the airport TSA agents whose policy manuals strictly prohibit smiling but do allow mild snickering when someone’s cellulited thighs create an aurora borealis of images on their x-ray machines.

While I could continue these graphic descriptions of my retiree life pressures, I’d rather go fishing.  Say howdy to my friends at work.