Somewhere, in one of the boxes that that lurk in a closet of Chateau Thompson, lies a brochure from an investment firm promoting the â€œjoys and relaxationâ€ of retirement.
If I had the energy Iâ€™d find that brochure and burn it.
At some point, in 2004, I remember saying we moved to Floyd County to â€œrelax and retire.â€
Iâ€™m sure I said it.
At least I think I did.
My â€œto doâ€ list Thursday contained 14 items. I got to five of them before collapsing on the couch and sleeping for the next seven hours.
Amy laughs as I wonder where the retirement went. Sheâ€™s not surprised.
â€œYouâ€™re not big on relaxation,â€ she says.
The problem, of course, stems from a singular inability to say â€œno.â€
Somebody asks if I can do something and I say â€œsure, why not?â€ I should say â€œno way!â€
Then something happens to throw me behind â€“ way behind. A week lost because of the flu. Two days when Lokiâ€™s fragile heath failed and we had to take him to Virginia Tech and put him to sleep. A 10-hour board of supervisors meeting that should have been over in four.
Iâ€™ve never been good at time management. Time is a journalistâ€™s enemy. We race against it and, all too often, lose.
Time, they say, flies when youâ€™re having fun.
Actually, time flies, no matter what your state of mind.
And youâ€™re always racing to make the flight.