Retirement is not without Hassles: Here Comes the Sun #1280

It’s my turn to cook today, although too many episodes of Breaking Bad might lead some to the wrong impression. I hope my pork chops do not turn out blue! A new Better Call Saul is on the agenda for tonight’s entertainment. I just completed day #4,115 of the running streak and 18 full days of self-quarantine. It will reportedly peak here in Oregon by later this month. There are 1,132 positive cases and sadly 29 deaths. My daily routine hasn’t really changed much after 3 years of retirement, but for others I’m sure it’s been difficult. I do miss getting together with my friends and restaurant martinis. Otherwise, I run, write, walk the dog, and watch TV, with some occasional household duties. My recently retired wife is much more restless. 

I just penned another letter to the Social Security Administration about my pricey Medicare Part B payments. It continues to be my biggest hassle of late, coupled with other financial worries regarding the deteriorating condition of my 401k. This virus is becoming an economic tragedy. The windows of the restaurant below our apartment now has the windows covered and “no alcohol or food” signs posted to prevent looting. It’s a sad sight, but at least our favorite in-building restaurant continues to do brisk business with take-out orders. We support them twice a week and a few other neighborhood haunts. With my turn in the kitchen tonight, all the other neighborhood chefs, including my wife, can take the night off. 

I’m working on a silly children’s poem about a dog and a frog but it’s not yet coming together. It was inspired by our dawdling schnauzer, who’s never in hurry to finish her walk. Maybe the story can join the ranks of the “Tortoise and the Hare,” another tale of two unlikely companions. We all know the moral of that story is “Don’t brag about your lightning pace, for Slow and Steady won the race!” I’m trying to channel Aesop in my poetic endeavor, but it’s really just a function of boredom. In all honesty, “frog” was one of the few words that rhymes with “dog.” So, dog – frog – blog. 

Most our airplane travel has been canceled until fourth quarter, although we’re still considering a flight to Florida in June. Out of necessity, we have to get down there and decide on the final location for our forever retirement home. There are several 55+ communities in the vicinity of Tampa that we need to visit before we can start the six-month construction process. Our timetable is to move out of this apartment when the lease expires next March, just over a year from now. We also plan to drive my wife’s car down there in August as part of a cross-country adventure and store it at my son’s house. It would be step number one in the costly move, and leave us with just my car here in Portland. 

As we continue to sit and wait for all of this to happen, I’m watching Ken Follett’s, The Pillars of the Earth, on Starz. I’m also reading his 1978 historical spy novel, Triple. My wife reminded me that my dad was a huge Follett fan and introduced us to the trilogy. The thought brought him back to life for a few pleasurable moments. Like father – like son. He was the first to take me to Florida, but chose nearby Orange Beach, Alabama to enjoy part of his retirement with my mom. Her parents spent their final years in Englewood, Florida. It’s always apparently been my destiny to live and maybe die in the Florida sunshine. “Here comes the sun.”

In Beatle George Harrison’s words: