Restless nights don't always lead to restless days but they surely increase the likelihood of an appearance of one. A further contributing factor (to a restless day) may be to have scheduled for it yet another visit with the endodontist (the same one who last week retreated a root canal for me).
But first, before all this, there is breakfast -- that wonderful meal that this morning required a jacket. It was that cool. (For me, not for Ed.)
The endodontist -- an incredibly talented and wise man, has seen far too much of me lately, especially since the last half dozen visits have been freebies. (He feels compelled to fix this tooth at the set initial price, even though we've gone mountains over that piddly first set of hours.)
Well now, if you come here this often, we'll run out of family milestones to talk about. I already know about your daughter's wedding and your older girl's pregnancy -- he smiles, but not very broadly.
Let's try a different topic -- how's your weekend shaping up?
I think about how I should answer this. I don't really have a week-end anymore. The only thing that makes a weekend a weekend is that my older girl and her husband typically come over for supper on Sunday. So I know then that it's a Sunday.
The endodontist comments -- reminds me of my friend who just retired. His wife asks him -- what are going to do today and he pauses and answers -- nothing. And she asks him -- so what are you going to do tomorrow and he answers -- I haven't finished doing nothing today yet!
I laugh, but were I not with all forms of paraphernalia in my mouth I'd explain that it isn't really like that. I do have things on my plate and each day I make small progress and get closer to picking them up again. It would help if I didn't have to spend so many mornings at the endodontist -- I want to say.
After, I do the weekly grocery shopping and by the time that's behind me -- boom! It's afternoon.
I water the garden contemplatively, thinking about whether I should put the motor on and get to my projects.
And I decide I'm going fast enough. Your sense of time changes when you retire: a packed day may be the bees knees for some, but for me, if there's no time to leisurely pick up a book (for example), then I feel I've crammed in too much.
In the evening we play tennis. A good game. Relaxed. Unhurried. Why should it be otherwise...
But first, before all this, there is breakfast -- that wonderful meal that this morning required a jacket. It was that cool. (For me, not for Ed.)
The endodontist -- an incredibly talented and wise man, has seen far too much of me lately, especially since the last half dozen visits have been freebies. (He feels compelled to fix this tooth at the set initial price, even though we've gone mountains over that piddly first set of hours.)
Well now, if you come here this often, we'll run out of family milestones to talk about. I already know about your daughter's wedding and your older girl's pregnancy -- he smiles, but not very broadly.
Let's try a different topic -- how's your weekend shaping up?
I think about how I should answer this. I don't really have a week-end anymore. The only thing that makes a weekend a weekend is that my older girl and her husband typically come over for supper on Sunday. So I know then that it's a Sunday.
The endodontist comments -- reminds me of my friend who just retired. His wife asks him -- what are going to do today and he pauses and answers -- nothing. And she asks him -- so what are you going to do tomorrow and he answers -- I haven't finished doing nothing today yet!
I laugh, but were I not with all forms of paraphernalia in my mouth I'd explain that it isn't really like that. I do have things on my plate and each day I make small progress and get closer to picking them up again. It would help if I didn't have to spend so many mornings at the endodontist -- I want to say.
After, I do the weekly grocery shopping and by the time that's behind me -- boom! It's afternoon.
I water the garden contemplatively, thinking about whether I should put the motor on and get to my projects.
And I decide I'm going fast enough. Your sense of time changes when you retire: a packed day may be the bees knees for some, but for me, if there's no time to leisurely pick up a book (for example), then I feel I've crammed in too much.
In the evening we play tennis. A good game. Relaxed. Unhurried. Why should it be otherwise...
