In retirement, I've developed a bad case of mañana. There's always plenty of time, so why not put off things until an hour from now... or maybe until tomorrow? I'm an old beat up grandpa. My job now is to babysit the grandkids and take a nap... and that's all. Or, is it?
My life has been full of dramatic surprises, Myrna's entry and exit being among the most surprising.
Women are always wild cards. I'm not looking for one, and that's the most likely time for one to show up, isn't it?
That old creative itch nags at me. Write about Myrna. Write about the meandering adventure that has been my life. (It really was a Long Strange Trip.) I keep intending to make animated videos for YouTube of all the songs I've ever played or sung (an impossible task). But, I think... mañana.
There's no money in writing and playing music, or so I think. So, why bother?
Adventure also has a way of showing up in my life uninvited, too. This time around, however, I'm not out there in the world much. How can adventure find me when I'm hiding out in my house?
I've been resting for three years. Resting and hiding out. Perhaps, there is nothing ahead of me but the inevitable disintegration of my body and death.
Or, perhaps there is another, final chapter to be played out. I don't know.