Wednesday, December 9, 2015

Suspended from Disbelief






Victory. A full day spent in the city - at the office, a seasonal after-work-party, beers and dinner with some friends, hours spent trying to get some sleep on a couch in a dark room, a mad midnight dash to the airport to pick up a visiting friend, the long drive back home to Sonoma together, a few glasses of wine, some chatting, four hours of sleep, another day lies ahead.

My body feels as if its whining. My mind is. Its monologue very much runs on the principle of the squeaky wheel gets the grease. Recovery takes time, often much more so than does the damage. My input/output ratios are all screwed by age. All injuries are lifelong, now.

I've been part of the American workforce for almost nine years. I'll be planning my retirement party soon, if I'm not caught napping.

I've developed a nervous twitch. Longtime readers here might be shocked at such a revelation, but it's quite true. I have anxiety issues. Modern pharmacology can only relieve the pain. It can not produce a cure. When I go in to the city to work, even if I have had a moderate amount of sleep, for me - more than 4 hours, often less than six - my left eye will twitch all day long. It's unnerving, this nervous reaction. It only happens at work. I thought that maybe it was the lighting in the office, but many people comment on how pleasant they find our office lighting to be. I sit facing a big open window, also, where I have an unimpeded view of the sunrise, with an enormous amount of natural light pouring in.

The only explanation is that this is my body's way of telling me it's time to retire. I've put in almost a decade of work and now it's time to enjoy the fruits of my labor as I drift carelessly towards the sunset. My job here is complete. 

The time has come for me to finally meet with a retirement planner.







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