I’m talking trash today! In fact, it’s “Trash Day” in the adjoining neighborhoods, meaning Friday has come for the work force. The plastic bins scattered along the sidewalks are a simple reminder for us retired folks as to what day of the week it actually is today. As I run each  Friday morning, it’s always humorous to see what items are getting thrown out. For example, this morning I saw a huge empty box of “Wrinkle Cream.” My first thought was are they bathing in it? Just how much wrinkle cream do you need, and do the check-out clerks at stores like Costco raise their eyebrows when they scan these massive quantity purchases? 

I’m waiting on a UPS package from the adoption agency that may answer some more questions about my birth. I’m concerned that I might miss the delivery with my weekly “Leadership Meeting.” If so, I’ll go to the distribution center this evening. I’m very curious as to its contents, but then again there may be little of interest, as I try to contain any excitement. In the meantime, I continue to watch the soap opera Downton Abbey that is in many ways like Game of Thrones. In both cases, the central theme is money and power with a few lovable bastards, like me, mixed in to stir the pot. 

My wife will be looking forward to the weekend, once she finally “punches the clock” later this afternoon. She enjoys her time with the dogs and I, always feeling like she’s missing out on something when she goes to work. It seems like I should feel a tinge of jealousy about her continued career, but I’m perfectly happy being retired. I honestly don’t miss the office and those related hassles. This week I’ve been perfectly content with sitting quietly at home. I’m just glad that I make the effort to run every morning because otherwise I’m a slug. I’ve run at least three miles every day since our last last early morning flight over a month ago when I cut back to the one-mile minimum. Currently my consecutive U.S.R.S.A. streak stands at 10.5 years (3,834 straight days). It’s one of the few things in life that I have left to brag about, other than kids, grand-kids, and my wife of 18 years. 

The postman and the trash-man cometh. I refer to “The Iceman Cometh,” a play written by Eugene O’Neill in 1939. (See Post #355). The very subject matter was the topic of this earlier post two years ago, as I now approach the 1,000 mark. It was one of my early retirement goals to write a post every day and I’ve exceeded this challenge. It’s been two-and-a-half years now since I left Alpha Media and the writing and running are two essential blocks in my daily foundation. My official “Trash Day” is on Mondays, so when I see the adjoining neighborhood bins out on Fridays I know the weekend is ready to start and that I have two days to get my own trash in order.