Dolly Parton sang about “9 to 5” and I lived it; I find the sudden absence of a schedule a huge challenge.
I spent my entire work life on a Monday-through-Friday timetable — the alarm at 5:30 a.m., the bus at 6:30, the gym by 7, the office by 8:30, the market opening at 9:30. If any part of that routine failed — I forgot the alarm or the bus was late — it threw me; I was a stockbroker, laser-focused until the Market closed at 4:30 p.m.. I ate lunch at my desk — chicken salad on rye and a Diet Coke every day — and was always on the phone. I’d leave by 5 p.m., meet my husband — who also worked on Wall Street — for an early dinner, occasionally we’d order in, Chinese food or pizza, and then collapse in front of the TV, repeating the routine the next day. I had earlier careers, from TV news producer with a 4 a.m. wake-up to director of tourism for New York City under Mayor John Lindsay and working evenings. But I always had a schedule, so life felt under control.
My challenge now is how to structure my day. I wake up at 5 a.m. — a function of a restless puppy — and often stay in bed reading my phone in the same order every day: the weather, bank and brokerage accounts, social media — Instagram and Facebook, VERY recent for me — and newspapers: always the New York Post, which I remember fondly carrying a nickel in my pocket to buy; The New York Times, which I first learned to read, folded vertically, riding the subway; the Washington Post which initially came free with Prime; and the Wall Street Journal, which I subscribe to for the weekend edition.
By then it’s often 10 a.m. and I am racked with guilt that I have not really gotten out of bed, let alone done anything productive — though I’m never sure if that means saving the world or simply putting away the prior night’s dishes — and feeling badly that I have trained my dog to forgo breakfast until I get really hungry. I have learned to turn breakfast into an “activity,” making a fruit smoothie or a bowl of cold cereal with lots of diced fruit, mostly because I’m in no hurry.
The next several hours are tricky: I’ve replaced my morning gym visits with pilates two days a week and a trainer two others, and with driving, I fill several hours, including grocery shopping and UPS to return everything I order from Amazon that I have no intention of keeping — a subject for a later column, along with the aforementioned change in diet, and sleep habits, and exercise routine, and shopping habits. I make myself a late lunch — never having learned to cook, I fill my refrigerator with pre-made salads — and sit down to a proper meal, trying hard to just contemplate rather than constantly read.
Then I have more down time, guilt-ridden because there’s laundry plus closets to organize.
Instead I hang out with my puppy and read a crime novel until my partner arrives home . He has a schedule — he’s a jewelry designer and spends his days in the studio — and once he’s home, MY day finally has structure: we catch up and plan dinner — he cooks — while we watch TV. He’ll fall asleep first — he’s had a productive day, after all — and I’ll read until well past midnight, or work on my column.
I try to embrace this lack of structure — it’s what retirement should be and I’ve “earned” it after working since I was a teenager — but it feels wrong. There are Zoom meetings, or mentoring calls with young folks, visits with friends and family, and doctor appointments and emails, but it’s never enough, and as I become less able to do the work around the house, I feel even more like a slug.
I must learn to embrace this, cherish the opportunity to create my own schedule enjoy reading an entire book in one sitting, eat when I am hungry and play with my puppy, but it’s really difficult for me, as I imagine it is for many of you .
Please reach out to me with your thoughts or questions at GwenG@millertonnews.com
Gwen lives in Pine Plains with her partner, Dennis, her puppy, Charlie, and two Angus cows, who are also retired.
