Which Saturday is This?

Dearest Rachel –

One of the guys in the ‘accountability group’ that I’ve been assigned (I’d say assigned to, but I seem to have wound up in charge of it, whether I wanted to be or not) as part of the Saturday morning Bible study is, among other things, a recent émigré to the retired lifestyle. And a good thing, too, as he recently found himself dealing with a medical emergency that would have only been worse (and it was bad enough as it was; ‘life-threatening’ would not have been an excessive phrase to describe it, although it may not have been as serious as the one that my dad had to deal with six years ago) had he have had to worry about his job while in the midst of it. Any extra stressors could have made the difference, in terms of survival and recovery.

The good news, of course, is that he has survived, and is enjoying his life without having to deal with work. Not only does he have less stress (and more time to work on his physical therapy, which has speeded up his recovery process to the point where even his doctors are impressed), but he has more time to spend with his new grandchild (his first, with at least one more imminent). He’s even encouraging his wife, who’s fretting about the idea of retiring herself, that it’s a place worth being in – to be sure, he’s less concerned about whether their finances are sorted out than she is, which might explain their differing levels of being uptight about the possibility. While she worries about whether they can afford to both be retired, he insists that the difference between working and not working are more than enough to render it worthwhile, no matter the price.

“Life is good,” he insists, even as we ask if there’s anything for which he needs prayer. Although because of his assertion, we make a point to offer praise and thanks to God when we do close out; too often our prayers (and not just our men’s group, but we Christians in general) are a grocery list of things we (think we) need and want, and we forget to thank Him for His provision of all the good things in life. Thanks to his descriptions of his life as it’s going, we remember to offer those thanks as well, like we ought to.

The one curious way he describes his life in retirement – although I admit that I understand his meaning completely – is that to him, suddenly every day is Saturday. To which I tease him with the fact that he can’t treat every day like Saturday; if he were to show up at church every morning for Bible study, he’d be alone at best, and locked out at worst. To which he clarifies that Saturday as the calendar lists it is, for him, the sixth Saturday of the week; Monday is the first Saturday, Tuesday the second, and so forth.

Of course, I’m kidding him, as I know what it’s like for nearly every day of the week to feel like a day off (and, conversely, for the weekends to be the real “working days” in my week). This was how we spent the last half of 2019, after you gave me both the ability and permission to retire – and although I made a point to set up my office at the folks’ place, and spend nearly a full day most weekdays there, it wasn’t anything like the workdays I used to put in once upon a time. And when the lockdowns went into effect, well… there was no going anywhere, at least, not for long, and so those were that much more like Saturdays, day after day. Which, if I was on my own then, would have been horrific (and, as I’ve related to you in real time, those first few months without you were, in fact), but as it was, it was practically idyllic when we were together. These moments were what I put all that time and effort into attaining, even though what I’d accumulated, after almost thirty years in the work farce, amounted to a pittance compared to what you’d brought from your family.

And while I’d say something to the effect of “they were over all too quickly” (and the truly idyllic parts were, to be fair), it’s still very much like every day can be a Saturday, if I choose to make it so. Yesterday had me staying home in order to pay Kris as soon as she was done with her work cleaning the house, heading out to get gas for the car at the folks’ urging (apparently, there’s the likelihood that gas prices are going to be going up today, so I needed to fill up before that happened – if they go down at this point, I’m going to be slightly miffed) and taking Daniel with me to go shopping; these are things that couldn’t have been done if I was still a working stiff. Even the effort I put into working out and losing weight uses up time that I wouldn’t feel I had, if I still had a job to report to, and tasks to perform to earn my keep. I’d have little enough time at home as it is; to be away for another hour and a half to work out (especially since it hasn’t had the desired effect of attracting ‘Megumi’ in the first place) would be impossible in my mind.

But there are drawbacks to this attitude, as relaxed and laid back as it can be. This morning had me slowly getting started for the day when I heard the roar of a slow-moving truck outside; the unmistakable sound of the garbage truck making its rounds, whether or not I’d put anything by the curb (and it probably goes without saying that I hadn’t). Granted, it was early enough that I knew it was making its pass on the opposite side of the street (you’ll remember that the Rolling Meadows crew seems to hit our neighbors across the street first thing in the morning, giving us something of a two-hour warning before we needed to make sure that our bins were out for the Arlington Heights team. Even so, we sometimes only just made it under the wire with that task), but it was enough to impel me out the door; besides, thanks to having extended my weekend into yesterday, I’d yet to get back to the gym, and needed to get outside to make my way there.

Fortunately, it would seem that the boys had beaten me to the punch, and dragged the bins out last night after having finished watching whatever it is they’re following these days. So at least someone in this house is keeping track of which Saturday it is, and acting accordingly. I probably should thank them, but knowing them as I do, I think having prepared breakfast for Daniel this morning was more than sufficient.

In any event, now I need to get on with the rest of the day. So keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.