Where do the days go?


An hour in the life of a kindergartener is a pretty large percentage of that little one’s life.  A DAY in the life of a retiree is a much smaller part of their (my) life. It even seems that it’s a smaller part than what it factually might be!

I have yet to get our taxes done.  There’s still time, but I admit to being behind my usual timing on taxes.  We still intend to get the coach up to PPL — we are going to give that a try for selling it — but I’ve been trying to wait for a dry stretch so that I could get the coach washed one more time and then have 2 days during which to drive to Houston without getting it all dirty again and the weather woman is interfering with my plansweatherwoman.

It’s a slight annoyance that days pass so quickly.  Even when I’m busy all day long it seems that my list of things I’d like to accomplish gets longer rather than shorter.  I have no idea why some retirees can complain about having nothing to do because there always seem to be more things of interest to do, or explore, of attempt than I have hours in the day to accomplish.

While in Milwaukee I dug out a couple old portfolios with images.  I’ve been looking for frames the size of the images I printed for the portfolio — which are a bit unusual — and having a hard time finding affordable frames (which doesn’t mean that the frames I’ve found are terribly expensive — just that they are more expensive than I had been planning on paying.  I have my maternal Grandmother’s genes for that.  Every day she walked three block from her home on South 7th Street to Mitchell Street where there were 8 blocks of neighborhood stores and she would shop for her day’s groceries.  She never bought anything unless it was at “HER” price.  Sometimes she’d get a bargain; other times she’d wait a week or several weeks until the price came back down to “HER” price.  She was a frugal old gal, but she knew what she wanted — just like me.

I guess I have some prior hurricane to blame for the “texture” on the walls in a couple rooms.  After talking with other residents it sounds as if some prior hurricane cause some cracking in plaster walls in the park and quite a few of the mobile homes here have been repaired with plaster and texture on top.  Makes sense but it’s also a nuisance.  We don’t have very many of those walls — just four.  I’m rethinking what I want to do in that room.

Peg wants to look at plants. The other day at Lowes we ended up in the garden center.  Talk about a feeling of helplessness!  Neither of us knows bupkiss about what plants grow well here and which don’t.  We learned our lesson about buying plants at home improvement stores up north.  Just because they sell them doesn’t mean they are good selections to be grown in the local area.  It may be that they will grow, but not always that they are a non-invasive, ecologically sound choice for a garden.  And, no one seems to sell cactus or palms — at least not at outlets we’ve discovered so far.  We need to explore further but that may be a while before we do much — gardening isn’t high on our priority list but it’s there and we will most likely visit the garden centers time and time again looking for ideas before the right one settles in “The Little Gray Cells”  —for, as all you Hercule Poirot fans must know — it is the little gray cells that figure out everything!

After 3 months I finally found my carpenter’s hammer.  For the last three months I’ve been pounding the periodic nail into the wall with a.) my meat cleaver or b.) with a lineman’s pliers.  I know, I know…. that’s not the right thing to do, but hey, I got the job done and I wasn’t going out to buy another hammer when the one I ‘had’ but couldn’t find was better than the ones for sale in the store today.

By the way…hammer. I looked at hammers the other day whilst shopping for something else.  And I really did notice a huge change in the quality of hammers.  I have what I’ve always called a carpenter’s hammer — it’s not like a roofing hammer, or a framing hammer, the claws are more curved than most of the ones available now.  But what I found really interesting is the quality of steel that they are using.  My hammer is hardened steel and the claws are quite thin.  Not skinny (as in side to side) but thin as in thickness of the claw.  The new ones are so thick that I could never get the claw under some of the nails I have removed with my old one.  I suppose that’s a good way to sell you a pry-bar or some other specialty tool but I’d rather just use my hammer which would happen to be in my hand already and not require my going to look for another tool.

This really is a new chapter in life.  And the longer we spend here the more I’m convinced it was the right time to make a change.  We didn’t feel the “need” to settle down, it just seemed a good idea at the time.  Now, a few months in, I feel as if we were sensing the changes in our own bodies and made the move at the right time.  Now if we can just get rid of the coach I’d be a lot happier.  It doesn’t make any sense for it to be just sitting there when someone else could be using it.

With most of the rooms feeling lived in, and days humming along smoothly life is good.  Thanks for stopping by, and I’ll be here again tomorrow to chat about something.  Why not stop by and see what it happens to be.

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