two and one equals three

There are three doors. Just three. Right now I can show you two.

Door number One is I actually retire for good, quit working. That means moving out of San Diego. Not working equals moving from San Diego. The expense. Door number Two is not retiring, not doing what both my body and soul are waving their hands at me to do, and continuing to have just enough money to live here, where I am as I type this, a Monday morning, in San Diego. Likely working until the day I die. These are the two doors for me this morning.

I said there were three doors. Door number three is the door of retiring, soon, and continuing to have enough money to live where I am living this morning. Retiring, not heading off to a paid position four or five days a week. Money coming for rent and utilities and gas and food and books and the all of it from somewhere else. A reason I’ve been marketing my books and art as consistently and persistently as I have of late – with little to show for it. Gazing off into the unknown.

None of this is complaining. I am fortunate to remain employable at 75. I share a lovely home, here in San Diego, with a sweet, fun woman. And my mind and heart swirl with all the possibilities and opportunities and invitations there, right now, behind the presently-closed third door. Possibly opened. Soon.

I guess I’ll just see what happens.