Retired Woman’s Complaint
Another day is done. What happens to them? They fly by and are over before I know it, leaving me nodding off instead of reading a book I must review.
Did they always go this fast? Not when I was working. The hours often dragged by during work hours and I’d want the weekends to hurry. Now I don’t even like weekends. They’re inconvenient. Sam’s is too crowded. Too many places stay closed on Sunday and even the grocery store down the street closes early.
Its more fun not to have to work while other people do. When everybody’s off I don’t feel so special and blessed to be through with real jobs. I play most of the time and I can do whatever I please whenever I want. Somehow it’s just more fun and I feel more privileged on weekdays.
Precious free weekdays, the days when I can write, work on our old house, or just play on my phone while the adults have to work are just special. Those days, despite nine years of retirement now, still feel a little like joyously skipping school. They just don’t last long enough. It’s sometimes dinner time before I even get my markers out to color in my adult coloring book. And the late shows on TV come home n before it even feels late to me.
This day, which I was just getting started on, is shot to hell already. The dog is laying at my feet snoring. The cat is curled up and fast asleep. I so fervently wish there was more time in a day or at least that time didn’t speed by so fast.
The sun sets too quickly on these winter days. I look at the clock after what seems like half an hour and find two hours have passed. How did that happen?
It’s so not fair that the older I get, the faster time goes. It’s so much fun to be free of the working world and get up every day and do whatever I want. But days don’t last long enough.
When I was a kid I wanted to hurry and grow up, and time crawled by. It felt like I was 12 for three years because I so badly wanted to be a teenager. I couldn’t wait to grow up. I impatiently waited for days to pass. The last hour of school felt three days long.
The closer I get to the end of my life, the faster the hours pass. It’s funny how that works. When we’re children and want time to gallop by, it doesn’t. But when we wish there were many hours before sunset, the day insists on ending quickly and fading fast. The darkness blots out everything and another precious day is forever gone.
Ain’t that a kick in the butt? Well, shit. I guess I’ll have to start getting up before noon.