On following advice

It could be, reading through my sorrows and complaints, you suspect I might benefit from a different approach. I agree with you. I doubt I’ll pursue one, though, because I lack the single animating characteristic necessary to change: I don’t want to.

I have friends and relatives who, for many reasons, felt uncomfortable and wished their discomforts would go away. They tried many options, and some perhaps even succeeded. But I, despite all foregoing evidence to the contrary, am not a self-identified suffering person. At the end of the day, I’m not so unhappy with my pain. It’s never lasted all that long, and it’s interesting.

I’ve been quaking in my boots, lately, because I’m fifty-five years old, I have no retirement account, and it occurs to me I may live alone when I’m old. This awareness, somehow, came upon me all at once, and I struggled with it. Notably, though, I did not collapse in a permanent heap. I find myself, as I inevitably do, more or less cheerfully squared off against my fate, and I notice: if you live in the United States, and you’re of a certain age, you very likely share it.

You’ll find endless advice on how to calm your shaking head. I can’t help you there. But I do suggest this: tidy up your affairs and attend to your accounts. There’s no secret about what’s coming.

Me?  I’m planning to open a sandwich shop.

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