Done. What now?

The best thing about retirement is a sense of “done.” Done has a feel. Done has a texture. The cake is baked, the zombie has been dismembered and burned.

I can read in peace. I can ignore the news. I can write silly haikus about cooking shows. I can write dialogs with Shasta the Invisible Slug. If I don’t tap that button the commits me to sub, I can read through the middle of the night and turn off all the alarms.

More importantly, when technology decides to act like the Russians diabolically hacked it for no reason, I have TIME. I can recreate the stupid password.  I can google solutions for my latest quandary.  I can try to get organized — and then decide that organization, a forever work in progress, can be postponed again.

I have been too busy for too long. My parents had the right idea. Bourbon and Seven-Up in the backyard with friends. Walking around lakes with friends. Reading useless stories where the plucky humans kinda-sorta survive the zombie apocalypse.

Zombie phrase for the day: You have to believe in yourself.

Oooohaahbbbuhweeve uhnn uhhhelllll.