Ok, some strange questions that were posed my way, today.

Or were they?

Well, when?


When are you leaving?

Leaving, where?


Uhm, 5pm?

No, I mean leaving, for good.

Oh that.

You mean retiring?

Ah, yeah.

I guess when I am 90.

Don’t be an ass.

Ok, when I am 80.

No, really, when?

It could be as early as Thursday.


Yeah, we Irish always were dreamers.

If my numbers come in, bye bye Miss American Pie.

Well, between you and me, I have one year and 5 months left.

Sounds like you have a plan.

Yep.  I will be 62, I will collect my social security and I will be out of here.

How lovely, if that is what you want.

What do you mean?  Doesn’t everyone dream of retirement?

Depends on what you want to do with the years you have left on this planet.

Like this is what you dreamed of all your life?

Well, let’s put it this way: I adjust my dreams, when I have to, but never really give them up.

Not me, Wolf. I am out of here, at 62.

My dreams don’t have an age attached to them.  My dream is to live each day as if it were my last, and no matter what my circumstances, to enjoy those moments that make a life worth living.  So?  If I have to work, let it be.

Yeah, ok, Ms American Pie.  I am out of here, in a year and 5 months.  And you will still be here. I can sleep in it I want to, I can go to the casino if I choose to and I can stay home when the snow flies.

Yeah, and I can arise at dawn, brave the elements and venture out to the workplace. And when I get there, I will have a blast.

A blast?  What the hell are you smoking?  I can’t wait to get out of here and to live my life. Just a year and 5 months to go.

Yeah, you have a year and 5 months to go, to achieve happiness. And I hope that happens.

What about you?  Another 10 years?

Well, my plans are slightly less grandiose than yours.  I hear it is going to be lovely January day tomorrow, with snow flurries and rising temps.  Now, if only I will wake up tomorrow, with the opportunity to give it my best shot on this planet for another day, I will be happy.

Such a pity, Wolf, that you aren’t counting the days til retirement, living in misery until the time comes to really live.

Yeah, it’s a shame, ain’t it?





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