This past spring, once I decided I was going to retire, I began contemplating what I was going to do with all the newly-freed time available to me after the end of May.

I bought a black-and-white marbled composition book — a long-time, very inexpensive guilty pleasure — and began filling it with lists and plans and more lists. The basic plan was to relax for a month, recharge after a very busy previous 9 months, and then hit the ground running in July.

Did you notice that I used the word “plan” in those last 2 sentences?

A proverb is a proverb for a reason.

Instead of traveling or decluttering or blogging or writing the next great American novel or doing 99% of the things in my composition book, I was dealing with:
 

• the illness and passing of my sweet Norwich Terrier, Dazey
• the aftermath of an automobile accident in which an arrogant and disrespectful (you should have seen how he yelled at me and treated the police officer!) young man hit me as I was, according to the police report, “legally-operating” my car — this aftermath involved my having to deal with inefficient and dishonest claim reps (his insurance company), being required to travel to multiple body repair shops and get estimates (his insurance company’s no-hassle, we-send-an-adjustor-to-your-home only applies to the insured), etc.
• listing my house, selling my house, having the deal fall through, immediately accepting another officer, finding a new house, and dealing with all the financial paperwork, inspections, etc. involved in selling one house and purchasing another
• moving
• starting a new part-time job
• assisting my then-newly-engaged daughter begin planning her wedding