For me, the New Year really starts on Friday, January 10, when I’m hosting my own “retirement” party to celebrate the fact that I shall no longer receive a paycheck. Or keep regular working hours. Or lose sleep because of some problem related to my job.
I guess that’s what “retirement” means, although I’ve never liked the word myself. It feels stodgy and small, as if I’m withdrawing from life. Maybe this is because I’ve worked until almost age seventy; and – honestly – it’s going to feel strange not to be employed.
At the same time, there are so many things I want to do that perhaps I won’t miss work. There are piano lessons to take and essays to finish and recipes to try and craft projects to start. And there are all the household things – like spring cleaning from 2011 – that I never got around to do. The list is endless.
And while I don’t have endless hours, I do hope the coming year finds me tackling that list with as much enthusiasm as if it were a full-time job.
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