It is official. Well, almost. I have retired, as of February 1. I actually retired 9 years ago, but, almost immediately thereafter, I was asked to come back, to work on contract. I have been doing that ever since, working in the summer, and repairing to Palm Springs in the winter, more specifically, as soon as it started raining in earnest in Vancouver. But I have had enough. I will be turning 75 this year, and have spent the last 25 years at the tribunal in one form or another. It seems like a good time to call it a day. I have been lucky not to embarrass myself, or the tribunal, during that time; best not to push my luck.
Although it was my choice, and I do still think it was the right one, I am still feeling, well, poopy. The end of an era, the severing of the last rope tying me to reality, I don`t really know.
And though, with the exception of working (and truly, I have not been doing much of that) I am doing everything else I have been doing for this interminable 10 months, all of a sudden I am hugely bored. My notorious short attention span has gotten even shorter; I can`t keep my mind on anything. Books take me forever - constantly picking them up and putting them down. And knitting a pair of socks seems endless.
Objectively speaking, I am still having a relatively good pandemic, although it is dispiriting to see how long it is going to take for Canadians to get the vaccine (apparently Canada is 9th in the ranking of countries in the vaccine rollout). Although I have a trip to Viet Nam scheduled for next fall, it is looking less and less likely that that will come to pass. And although I am used to being alone, and am better at it than most, I am more and more afraid, that I will not be able to make the transition back to social interaction.
I usual don`t write when I`m feeling poopy. You know me; glass half full, not glass half empty. But this is how I feel.
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