I'm 62.  Not crypt keeper old but not young.  Too old for a nose piercing, but too young for a Life-Alert necklace.  A few pounds over my ideal weight, but still relatively healthy.  I don't take prescription medications ... mainly because I rarely see a doctor.  I have noticed that there is a strong connection between a doctor's visit and the discovery of an ailment. 

 

Having established the fact I am in somewhat good shape, I have a confession.

 

I don't want to work anymore.  I've never been a career woman.  To me, employment was a means to an end.  I work, get paid, feed family.  Three simple steps that made sense.  At least, up until now.  

 

Now, I have developed a bad attitude.  I resent every single, solitary minute of working.  I can't or won't be nice.  When someone asks how I'm doing, I don't bother to answer because my face says it all.  I went through a period in my mid to late teens where I hated working.  Then after I had my first child, well, work had a purpose.  That purpose was named Eric.  

 

But at 62, I am just tired of working forty hours a week.  Then I start my other jobs, cook, maid, artist and writer.  I'm tired and I'm cranky.  

 

On my days off I can generally do what I want ... unless my grandkids are coming over, my husband needs help with something, I need to catch up on the laundry or housework.  

 

Frankly, at this point in my life I want to wake up in the morning and say, "Today, I want to do this and that."  Not "Today, I can either do this or that."

 

It's the "or" that causes my anger.  

 

I'm not promised tomorrow.  It would make life a lot easier if we knew how much time we had.  I could plan for that wonderful thing called retirement, but I can't.   And I don't want to wait.  I want to start enjoying life now.  I want to go for long walks, read a book, vacuum when I want to.  Maybe be so bold as to start a writing group where I live.  

 

Long story short, (or have I passed that point?)  I want to be Gretchen.  Not G the pharmacy tech.  I want to say I dabble in things, be it art, writing, nature walks,  or beach cleanups.  

 

I want to be G the dabbler.  It's not going to be a nine to six kind of job.  Nope.  This will be a twenty-four hour a day commitment. 

 

Sounds like a dream.  One problem, the pay sucks.