Elvis has left the building

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After 44 years of service to the good people of the United States (Army plus Federal job) Hubs has retired.

That was a freakin’ fast 44 years.

His original plan was to retire at the end of January 2018.  After the election of a President hostile to everything his agency is tasked to do, he moved it up to May 2017.   The difference in his monthly pension for those 8 month would be like $1.20.  We decided we could deal with this financial blow…

Smart man.

Then in February, he came home one day and asked if I would mind if he pushed his retirement up to the end of April.  He said, “I just feel dirty working for ‘that man'”, referring to his new boss, the man-child Cheeto-head.

Very smart man.  Hubs that is, not Cheeto-head…

The level of his job prohibited him from saying or writing anything about the U.S. Government that was political in nature.  That was a big no no.  It didn’t allow him to follow the example of his bitchy, feisty wife (AGMA) in posting/sharing scathing commentaries on social media about He Who Must Not Be Named and his contingency of thugs, criminals, henchpeople and traitors.

I know – I really need to quit tip toeing around the subject and say what I really think.

But he’s bound by those chains no longer!  I have to say that, while he has posted several mild critiques about the deteriorating state of the office of President and our nation, he as not been nearly as prolific or wickedly cranky as AGMA.  But we do have very different temperaments…

It’s been 4 weeks since the wild rumpus of retirement celebrations and so far, so good.

In all seriousness, AGMA realizes it’s been difficult for him to go from managing 5 offices spread across the southeast U.S. and being responsible for some very important cases, to being the guy who scoops the cat litter and de-cat-hairs the furniture.

Serious demotion.

I know he misses the 8 to 5 regiment Monday through Friday, and having his days very ordered. He’s a very logical person who likes routine and needs structure.  AGMA doesn’t help the situation by getting up early one day to go running and sleeping in the next just because I can.  I’m very used to unstructured, unordered days with no routine, and flying by the seat of my pants.

But then again, you probably knew that…

Thank God he has multiple interests, nurtured over the years, to occupy some of his time.    He’s been a chess player since high school; a bridge player since college and a genealogy researcher since before it was cool to be a genealogy researcher.  And more recent events/pursuits such as becoming a grandpa twice in 2 years and becoming proficient in French help tremendously.

He also signed up at our local senior center and is taking a class on Astronomy.

So while he seems a little lost right now, AGMA’s pretty certain that he’s going to be just fine.

But I’m also pretty certain that he thinks I’m a slug.

Yesterday, he got into a declutter fit.   While asking himself, “Does this item bring me joy?”, he totally cleaned out his side of the closet, all the drawers in his chest of drawers and his night stand.  He took 5 bags of stuff to Goodwill this morning.  He had a very smug look on his face as he loaded the bags in his car.

That look that says, “I’m an awesome time manager.  I’ve only been retired 4 weeks and I’ve managed to do something that you’ve been saying you need to do for months but say you just can’t find the time…”

Bastard.

Between my running schedule and my AGMA blog and my eBay business and my massage therapy practice and my travels and my domestic duties and maintaining family/friend communications and my political activism, finding what gives me joy and what doesn’t in my closet isn’t very high on my list.

But then again, he’s clueless.  He’s never had any idea what I did from 8 to 5 Monday through Friday.

And that’s about to change.

I will have given him a 5 week grace period.  Fair right?

Next week, we’re going to sit down to create the dreaded wonderful “Honey do” list.   This will be a combination of mundane, repetative domestic duties, one-off things that AGMA hasn’t had time to do that are within his skill set, and things that need to be done by a professional.

That’ll keep him busy for a few years.

Friends who’ve retired or spouses of retired folks have told AGMA that it took them 1 to 2 years to really settle into a new lifestyle.

So whaddaya think?  For those of you who have gone before, does this sound about right?

Any pearls of wisdom that you can drop AGMA’s way will be eagerly appreciated.

elvis

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On Hiatus Inc.

 

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I’ve been quiet lately.  It’s not that I’ve run out of things to say.  Oh my – I’ve barely gotten started…  Lucky you.

I’m on vacation!  Or coming back from vacation. At this very moment I’m flying at 32,000 feet (that’s 9754 meters to the rest of the world) going 476 mph (766 km/h).  Zoom!  

Not that being on vacation is such an unusual thing for me.  I’ve been “on hiatus” since 2006.  That’s what I told the young man beside me on the plane when he asked what I did for a living.  On hiatus.  We agreed it would be a killer name for a company if somebody hadn’t thought of it first.  Just my luck. 

To entice me to abandon my adopted adult hometown of 30 years and move to parts unthinkable, my husband dangled the “you can quit your job” carrot.  Of the several jobs I’d had out of college, the longest running and the one I was in at the time was as an IT minion for an insurance company.  ZZZZzzzzz…  

All but the last two years of my minion life were spent working part-time.  Great gig!  Professional job, but still time to be a soccer mom and drive a minivan.  Perfect!   I  pioneered working from home in the mid 80‘s.  I really didn’t mind being a minion part-time.   But after two years of full time miniondom after my youngest son had the nerve to go off to college, I was fed up.  Forty hours a week is just uncivilized…

I bit the carrot.

Sweet was the thought of a non-corporate life.  One glitch – it was hard to leave my co-workers and friends.  Really hard.  21 years of shared day to day experiences.  People who knew about my kid’s last track meet, my obsession with chocolate in any form, my last bad haircut.  People I hugged through cancer and divorce.  Laughed with at stupid boss stories at lunch.  Cried with at miscarriage and death.  Celebrated with at births, new love, re-marriages.  You know – the stuff that makes up every hour of every day.  Life.  

I cried when I moved.  My son always says, “Mom, you’re such a girl!”  

But as the Reverend Mother told Maria, “When God closes a door, she opens a window.”  Okay, maybe that’s not word for word…  Not working eight to five was a revelation!  Fancy gourmet cookware store work, famous chef assisting, monastic retreats, massage school graduation, hospice work, running, blogging, travel.  Lots of travel. Like now… 

‘Cuz I’m on hiatus.  Lucky me!