DIARY OF A RETIREE
A peek at a day in the life
I look busy for a living. I leave the house so it appears I did something. Fiona knows to never ask me what I did today. It’s absolutely nothing.
“Woke up, fell out of bed “Dragged a comb across my head “Found my way downstairs and drank a cup …”
John Lennon wrote the lyrics to A Day In The Life in 1967. The verse, sung by Paul McCartney, continues to describe rushing off to work. Fast-forward 53 years.
I’ve been retired since 2012. I’m not rushing off to work.
As a septuagenarian cancer survivor living through the COVID-19 pandemic, I’m not rushing anywhere.
Here’s a chronology of A Day In My 2020 Life:
7 a.m.: Wake up, stumble off to the loo (yet again), crawl back into bed. Hoping to doze off for a while.
7:30: Too many COVID-19 preoccupations to sleep. Dog has begun stirring and is lobbying for a morning walk.
7:45: Stroll off to nearby park. Although dog is anxious to frolic with other dogs, social distancing mandates zero socializing — not that I’m into early-morning chatter anyway.
8 a.m.: Feed dog. Feed immense turtle that was tiny when we got it for my daughter 32 years ago. Feed bunny that was my daughter’s until she got a dog.
8:15: Feed self. Read newspaper. Begin what will be a daylong addiction to Facebook. 9 a.m.: Big decision: Shower now?
9:30: Big post-shower decisions: Blue or black jeans? Which colour socks?
9:45 to 11: Scroll through Facebook reading and reposting news stories, checking out dog photos (but not cats) and looking for funny posts to cheer me up.
11 a.m.: Debate whether to order a Sit N’ Sip Refillable Winebag Chair from Amazon. Ix-nay on that. US$300 is too much for getting comfortably hammered.
11:15: Discover a hilarious website called Mommy Needs Vodka. Sample entries: “Trying to make protein shakes but they keep coming out as Margaritas” ... “If you listen real closely to my kids arguing, you’ll hear me pouring a glass of wine” ... “Quarantine has really showed me you don’t need fun to have alcohol.”
Noon: Second dog walk. Wave at some of the people I avoided on the early walk, just to show it’s social distancing and I don’t dislike them.
1 p.m.: Lunch. Whatever can be quickly nuked or eaten cold.
1 to 3: Household chores — vacuuming, laundry, countertop disinfecting, dishwashing, etc. Alternatively, figuring out an excuse not to do any of them, for example, there might be something cool on Facebook. 3 p.m.: Restorative 45-minute nap.
4 p.m.: Wake up from nap that lasted too long. Decide whether to contravene One Coffee a Day and None After Noon rule. 4:30: Walk dog again.
5 p.m.: Feed dog. Honouring the memory of Mad Men’s Don Draper, concoct restorative Old Fashioned. Feel patriotic about using Crown Royal, distilled in Gimli, on the shores of Lake Winnipeg.
6 p.m.: Turn on TV news for update on whether 70-somethings with medical histories will be allowed to mingle with the general populace any time soon.
6:30: Debate whether to cook simple dinner or phone popular barbecue joint for delivery.
7 p.m.: Debate how much to tip chicken delivery guy.
8 to 10: Watch Netflix, pining for the NHL playoffs. 10 to 11:30: Watch the National, then CTV News for updates on whether I might be able to escape confinement by Canada Day. Midnight: OK, enough Facebook! Turn out the damn light!
John Prine died last month at age 73. A few years ago, a Rolling Stone profile described him as a singer-songwriter who “lives a quieter life these days.”
Prine’s then daily routine resonates with me during these troubled times. He would wake up late, eat lunch at a greasy spoon, wash his car or shoot pool, then take a nap.
“I look busy for a living,” Prine deadpanned. “I leave the house so it appears I did something. (Prine’s wife) Fiona knows to never ask me what I did today. It’s absolutely nothing.”