You go along…

You are a fairly reasonable person.

You age.

At 20, you think you will live forever.

At 30, you know you are the cat’s meow.

At 40, you are at the top of your game.

At 50, you start to wonder what the hell happened to your youth.

At 60, you realize that the world is divided into the haves and have nots.

The haves have retired.

You, along with the have nots, will continue to pursue the fountain of youth.

Correction: The fountain of survival.

What happened to your dreams?

Actually, nothing.

They are still there, but just a tad bit altered.

Working every day takes more out of you than it did back in the good old days.

So you weigh the pros and cons:


Or not to work?


Or work part time?

Your family is shrinking.

You are the sole provider.

You also are the wildest 60 + person you know.

You work to remain useful…. and productive… and connecting with others.

Hey hey Chicken Butt:

When are you going to give it up?

When are you going to call it quits?

When are you gonna retire?

As I ponder those questions, I say to myself:

Girrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrl:  You are one obnoxious, ridiculous old bag.

You find too much pleasure and happiness with your work, and your co workers.

And more importantly, who’s gonna buy the booze when you no longer work?

So you see, my friends, candy is dandy.

And liquor is quicker.

But sometimes my job drives me to drink.

And let’s me indulge.

The perfect storm.

See you tomorrow.




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