The Crippled Vision

Retired life, when I'm forced to describe it, is like a weekend that never ends. But after a while, a never-ending weekend begins to lose any sense of rhythm, any flow, and falls in on itself into a kind of dissolute ennui.

So, I observe certain routines and schedules to give my time a semblance of structure. For example, the city collects trash in my neighborhood on Tuesdays, which means I take the trash out on Monday nights, rolling the bins down the steep hill of my driveway, and then back up again every Tuesday. 

That might seem like a pretty minor event and it is, but taking the trash out on Mondays also means I change the kitty litter on Mondays, which in turn means Mondays are general house-cleaning days, a tidying up after the long (six-day) weekend that preceded it. Mondays are the day to vacuum, to scrub toilets, to attempt to dust a little around the house. 

Mondays are also my politics day. On Mondays, Rachel Maddow does her live, weekly show on MSNBC and Jon Stewart hosts The Daily Show. I might watch either or both shows on other days, but Mondays are the must-see evenings.  So instead of playing video games or bingeing out on Netflix, on Mondays I'm watching television and catching up with two unique and entertaining views on current events.

I also don't drink on weeknights. I might allow myself a drink or two on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday evenings, but starting Mondays I observe abstinence. And I've found that observing abstinence during the week makes me less inclined to drink on weekends. I lose my taste for it. 

So housecleaning, ritual rolling of the trash bins down the hills, Rachel Maddow and Jon Stewart, and abstinence from alcohol define my Mondays, and make them unique from the rest of the week. And as Mondays come up every seven days, a rhythm emerges and the dissolute fog of the endless weekend begins to lift, if just a little.