I continue to lug around the remnants of my past. So many LPs, so many CDs, so many cassettes, so many books, so many hard drives, the last with so many comic books, so many photos, so much music, so many downloads.
I fantasize that retirement will give me the time to organize all this. Finally, all my photos sorted by date in one place! Finally, all my analog music digitized so I can play it at a moment’s notice!
Of course, when you’re living with cancer, diabetes, and coronary health issues, and on drugs that would cost you nearly $15,000 every month without insurance, retirement is an odd concept, perhaps ephemeral.
Beyond that, the notion of saving these little tasks for when I have unlimited time seems to defeat the point of leaving the workplace to enjoy life.
And it begs the question: for whom? Me.
I’m at the center of so many pointless directions my life could take if I survive long enough to waste my time preserving and organizing all the material I’ve allowed to pile up, physically and digitally, in my life, so I can enjoy it once it’s all sorted out.
I’ve lived longer than I ever expected to already and have been grateful for every day. But I’m going to die alone and frightfully bored, and at some point the transition is going to be the most interesting part of it all.