Old Habits Die Hard

Glass of red wine, bottle tipped over

She raised her eyes and her chin just a bit, and sighed at the stack of “To-Do’s” sitting in her in-basket, and yes, it was her in-basket, because she’d assigned herself every one of those projects and it was always her turn

Retire they said, it’ll be fun, they said, you don’t have to answer to anyone but yourself, because you’re your own boss and you’ve fully prepared for the financial and health care costs that come with being fortunate enough to reach the age you are now at.

Who knew she could be such a demanding task master?

Well, when you’ve spent most of your life planning and preparing for a life of meaningful accountability, dodging the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune with only a few minor punctures, you do get this sense of entitlement to the remaining years spent doing only what you want.

Only, all the paperwork!

She sighed and rolled her eyes, imagining the curve of fragrant and brisk summer wind reaching in through the window for her stack of projects and sucking it out into the sunny morning, her laptop merrily tumbling and following suit, and she herself sailing off on a firmer gust, over the ocean to a table outside a tiny wine shop on some modern Thracian island (ARE there any of those around…must Google) and gazing out over a moonlit open sea with mermaids and men, dolphins, and whatever the Gods and Goddesses abundantly and beneficently let fall from open hands, no passport needed because of course she hadn’t taken care of that project either, due to priorities and less free time than she’d anticipated.

Standing, she padded off to the kitchen for another cup of coffee and the inevitable, tiresome return to reality.

© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2023)

18 thoughts on “Old Habits Die Hard

  1. (A.S.* Frank went and stepped on my Comment opener**)

    Engaging beginning, entertaining middle and wry ending, what more does a Six need?

    Well done.

    * Antescript
    **thanks a lot, Frank

    Liked by 2 people

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