Retirement, a New Oil Tank, and a Cryptic Tattoo

Retirement, a New Oil Tank, and a Cryptic Tattoo

So there’s a title that’s way out in left field; how could anyone possibly connect those dots!?

But that’s just the way my brain works, kind of like a tangled ball of wire or the feet in a Family Circus cartoon.

This morning I watched a man replace my furnace oil tank.

Actually, more like this morning I watched him replace it after I spent yesterday afternoon clearing the area around the old one.

The interesting part is that I booked the replacement more than a month ago.

For an entire month, I knew exactly what had to happen.

The area had to be cleared.

I asked my husband.

He said he’d do it.

I knew he wouldn’t.

Not because he’s unreliable.

Because I know him.

I also knew that eventually I’d do it myself.

I knew all of this a month ago.

And yet I waited until yesterday. Why?

If you’re as nerdy as I am, you know that Parkinson’s Law says work expands to fill the time available for its completion.

Apparently procrastination does too. We could call that Cynthia’s Law.

That’s the observation.

Now let your brain wander.

When mine wanders, it strolls through the retirement weed patch; that always seems to be my lens.

People say retirement gives us all the time in the world.

It might.

Or perhaps it simply removes most of the deadlines that used to give us that last little degree of push.

Like them or not, deadlines and time constraints gave us boundaries for prioritizing and getting “stuff” done. I know they prevented a great deal of “drifting” on my part over a forty-year work span.

Meetings. Customers. The Boss. Schedules and workplans.

Without them, nothing seems particularly urgent.

Not because we’re lazy, but because nothing seems to induce that last degree of effort, like an imposed sense of urgency.

And since my brain is a big ole ball of wire…I’m now reminded of a tattoo I’ve carried for years.

An infinity symbol with the number 212.

At sea level, water boils at 212 degrees.

But here’s the interesting part: reaching 212 isn’t enough to turn all that water into steam. Changing its state requires additional energy.

Steam can move locomotives.

Power factories.

Suppress fires.

Getting to the threshold is one thing.

Something still has to supply the energy to cross it.

So it made me wonder, as I moved all that crap in the furnace room myself (at the last minute), did I unknowingly give up something important to gain all this free time?

Everything has a cost. Be careful what you wish for. Blah, blah, blah.

Maybe one of the hidden costs of all this freedom was losing some of the things that used to push me past 212 degrees?

Maybe that’s why some retirees drift while others suddenly begin entirely new lives.

The difference may not be motivation.

It may simply be finding something new to supply the energy to get across that threshold.

I have no idea whether Parkinson’s Law belongs in this conversation.

Physics.

Motivation.

Tattoos.

Or retirement.

But they’re all sitting around the same table in my head at the moment.

I’m going to leave them there for a while and see who starts talking to whom.

Related Reading

If you enjoy following ordinary observations that turn into bigger questions, you might also like:

• If I’m Retired, Do I Still Need to Make My Bed Every Day?
• Boredom in Retirement
• Why Retirement Feels Strange (Even When You’re Ready for It)
• To Telic or Not to Telic: Why Retirement Feels Psychologically Strange

• Parkinson’s Law – The Economist, 1955 pdf
• The Task of Time in Retirement. Cambridge University Press. Ekerdt & Koss, June 2015