Don't You Think?
Monday. So we enter new territory. Normally I would go into work carrying my newspaper and have, say, cereal and coffee at my desk or across the way at one of the breakfast places. Weekends I trundle on down to my usual cafe and have (often) two strips of bacon, two eggs over easy, waffle and coffee. Like clockwork. Do I trundle on down the way to my usual cafe seven days a week, now that I'm retired? Don't want all those bacon and eggs seven days a week, though, what with what you read of their effect on your heart, lungs, arteries, spleen, kidneys and chances for longer term survival. And, what of this getting in a rut business? Just extend the current rut to encompass the entire week? Forever weekend? (Could be worse.)
Since it was about nine, I passed a dry cleaners that was open on my way to breakfast advertising “alterations” on a sign in their window. The swell light weight comfortable shooting jacket I like so much that has been sitting in the closet now for about a year. Or two. Maybe it's time to actually get the zipper fixed. Do something different for my first day as a retiree: get off my ass and actually do some one thing I've been thinking about doing for what seems forever. OK. Something constructive. I'll do it. First item: check!
Now what for breakfast? Coffee certainly. This is a coffee shop, after all. How about a bagel? No cream cheese, no butter, but a little jelly. Eat a bagel in the mornings with coffee, eat some of those swell vegetables people talk so much about later with lunch. (I understand you can buy them in a supermarket.) Sounds like progress. Second item: check!
Walking back I decided to sit for a bit in one of the chairs in a little park across from the Grand Lake theater. I thought, well, relaxing here,I should shoot a picture, so I shot a picture. This is progress, I thought, although I'm not sure it's the sort of picture anyone would care about, but this was a symbolic exercise, the fact it's a tree top (I've noticed there are many tree tops in this world, some of them more photogenic than others) is immaterial. OK, I've taken it easy on my way back from breakfast, smelled the roses, understood that I have time when I so choose to take a detour in returning to the apartment, and, as my shooting jacket will be ready one of these days soon and it has pockets for pens and a writing pad (to make notes as I'm sitting wherever I'm sitting cooking with ideas), I can now say third item: check!
Hot stuff, for a first day retiree, don't you think?