Welcome to Contemporary Urban Retirement Living, otherwise known as CURLing.

It's been a couple of weeks since my last day of work and the levels of disorganization and disorientation are high enough that I can't quite grasp how to proceed to the next thing down the line.

All I know is I want time to do nothing.

Was gone to Bend, OR that first week and home the next trying to tidy up the details of overworked living. But the days were confusing and I lumbered through them, body heavy with sex and eating and sleeping too well. The next week came with a hike at the ocean.

[Imagine the solitude at the Pacific's edge on a clear night and we were warmed and softened in moonlight. All that singing was for us only.]

Today and yesterday I've been at home hunting fugitive details. This includes answering all the messages in my inbox and reconciling finances. It means writing down scattered ideas to make lists of things I have to do. It means, lying in bed and reading or napping, or just being there.

Otherwise, unemployment checks are rolling in and I don't miss going to the office at all. I can't imagine how anyone still working there can tolerate it.

Tonight I'm eating out with Pam and Angela. I know they'll tell stories about summer travels. Then Andrew's band is playing.

It's nearly October. Everyone's home from summer; nighttime activities are close and warm.