The Pepper Dog and I were at the beach by 6:00 a.m. today. We greeted the sunrise and its attendant ushers-- birds and dolphins and a few scudding clouds that graced the scene to provide scale and contrast.
I sunk the chi, breathed a prayer, and considered, at this stage of life and a new retail career, how many realistic years I had remaining to rebuild some sort of hope for a comfortable descent into retirement. Or if it were even possible. Starting from scratch at this age, living in a motor home and driving an old car in order to lay low, keep a simple profile and have mobile options if things keep going south economically.
Here is what I asked myself: If I give ten hard years of work in order to secure the possibility of ten more physically easier years of work well beyond retirement age, how much can I hope to save, what investment can I make, what return of security can I expect that hasn't already been stolen by a group of politicians today?
I sweartahgott it's enough to make you shrug, right along with Atlas.