I felt a lot safer from catching a respiratory disease at the Portland airport today than ever shopping at Target. We had, for us, a rare Saturday morning flight that when we were both working was a waste of a perfectly good weekend. We would usually attempt to sneak away from the office on Friday afternoon, too many times for a red-eye. In retirement, there’s no need to stress and compress, trying to squeeze-in every possible second of work freedom. We also don’t like early morning or connecting flights but pandemic- altered schedules did not provide any options. In this case, we’re traveling from Portland to Orlando via Seattle. There were only a few brave (or stupid) flyers this morning, so the airport was a ghost-town.

When we get to Florida, I’ll be able to get a much-needed haircut. The salons in our neighboring counties actually reopened a few days ago but the Great Clips next to Target had long lines. In fact, any line now appear long because of the six-foot spacing. My wife and I are seated with an empty seat between us on the plane, observing the “Watch your Wingspan” signs in the Alaska Airlines terminal. Masks are mandatory, while women must wear them, too! We also brought our Purell wipes to disinfect seat belts, tray tables, and other frequent touch points.

We’re going house hunting tomorrow with high hopes of finding a retirement abode. My wife is worried about finding the perfect lot to build the perfect home. I’m not as picky, just anxious to get away from apartment life. We have new upstairs neighbors now that we just got used to the old ones. They’ve also taken the parking spot next to mine on the lower bunk of the cumbersome hydraulic lift. There’s limited space now to get in and out of my car. The lift was also in the up position this morning, meaning that I had to lower it to get mine out. It takes about 5 extra minutes to watch the upper bunk eventually settle into the lower position, and always happens when you’re in a hurry

Like the old neighbors, the new couple wears Nike concrete shoes and moves around a lot, with chairs scraping, toilets flushing, jumping jacks, and mysterious heavy weights that keep dropping to the floor. We retaliate by giving the neighbors below an equal dose of disturbances. They’re out of luck because there’s no one below to return the favor. All of our neighbors are nice people who would be embarrassed if they could only live below themselves. As you can see, It’s obviously time to move to Florida and get away from the neighbors.