Sittin' on the dock of the bay... I am on the final three months of work. I simply have lost all of the fucks I used to give about my job. It has become repetitive, banal, and jejune. I know nothing has changed from the job that I have savored the past 30+ years. But, it has been my dream for so long to retire, and it is so very close, that my brain is just going through the motions and attempting to bend space-time such that it can be done tomorrow. It ain't done. The cold weather and extraneous minor stressors turn the anxiety into pain. It is quite literally painful to wait.
I chatted with an old friend yesterday that I hadn't seen in a few years. He retired a little over a year ago. He looks healthier than I have ever seen him. Put me a little further into the darkness. Patience is not my virtue. Quiet solitude is my vice. Being forced every workday to socialize, meet deadlines, pacify ignorant co-workers, just making the effort is annoying to me now. I am lucky... financially the wife and I have achieved independence. We have more resources than we can ever spend. Our future is as assured as it gets. The paycheck in exchange for compliance and time is no longer a profitable enterprise. My time has become infinitely more valuable to me; and I wish I could just trade my last months salary to be free right now. Alas, my stupid need to fulfill my commitments keeps me voluntarily bound and chained. A prisoner who's jailer is himself. The proverbial cell door is open and unlocked, and I stand inside the cell angry that I don't choose to walk out. I am the dumbest person you know today.
60 more work days, 12 more: Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. Whining over.
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