Archive for the ‘Life’ Category

The Thinker

Some taxing mistakes

The tax code giveth and the tax code taketh. In 2014, the tax code tooketh, to the tune of about $3000 in checks I did not expect to write to the U.S. Treasury and Virginia Department of Taxation. Ouch! No one likes paying taxes and I don’t like paying mine anymore than anyone else, but I particularly didn’t like it this year when instead of getting refunds I was writing four figure checks. Because of my success in previous years I sort of assumed that it wouldn’t be a problem in 2014 either. So I kept things on autopilot. I didn’t change withholdings or exemptions. I figured it would sort itself out.

But it didn’t. And the answers of why I suddenly paid so much more in taxes when the tax rates haven’t changed were lessons for me and maybe for you too if you read this. What were the causes?

  • We lost an exemption when our daughter moved out. She was employed all year but lived with us until October. She paid for her automobile expenses but otherwise lived off house fare and got free rent. I assumed because we paid most of her expenses we could still claim her as an exemption. An exemption is worth almost $4000 off your taxable income. If you are in the 25% tax bracket like we are, that’s about $1000 in taxes. How much of her expenses we paid does not matter to the IRS. What matters is how much money she made and since she made more than $3,500 we could not claim her as a dependent. So in our benevolence to help her acquire the savings she needed to live independently, we were also taxed for the privilege. Ouch!
  • We started earning interest again. We put a lot of our cash into Ally Bank, an online bank, which pays about 1% interest. 1% interest is not much, but it beats the .01% we were getting through the credit union and USAA Savings Bank. It’s nice to earn interest, but it’s income so you have to report it. $219 in additional interest effectively cost us $53.50 in extra taxes.
  • When I retired I was paid for six weeks of accrued annual leave, a significant lump sum of money for which I was disproportionately taxed. There is wisdom in retiring on the first of the year. That way your lump sum applies to the next tax year when your income will be less. I didn’t do that and retired August 1. Despite our retirement for five months of 2014, our earned income was just $16,500 less than in 2013. This was largely due to the lump sum paid on my retirement.
  • My business income went up but I didn’t want to pay quarterly taxes on the income because of the paperwork hassle. It worked out in the past by making my four-digit tax refund three digits. This time it worked against me.
  • I could not claim my health saving account deduction. Last year I got the full $2500 credit. Since I wasn’t employed all year in 2014, I actually only put about $1700 into the HSA, but there is no requirement for money to accrue for it to be paid out. $2500 was paid out. The end result was that I could not claim the credit at all, so that effectively cost me $625 in taxes.
  • I hassled my wife to put money into her employer’s 401K while I kept putting money into her IRA. Because her 401K money was tax deferred, her IRA money was not. It’s good to save money but because it was not tax deferred it effectively cost us $812 in extra taxes. Hey, it seemed like a good idea at the time! On the plus side some day I will be able to take out the money we put in for 2014 and not pay tax on it.
  • Because I made more money consulting, I had to pay more self-employment taxes. Cost for the extra income: $128 in taxes.
  • Our cars depreciated, so we paid fewer personal property taxes, which added $33 in taxes.
  • Our mortgage is almost paid off, which means there is less of a mortgage interest deduction. That effectively meant $150 more in taxes.
  • We gave less to charity. This is mainly because my wife stopped going to her temple and feeding them regular checks. I didn’t think to make up the deduction with other charitable spending. This effectively cost us $566 in taxes.

The above was slightly offset by some good things: lower earned income, more consulting income and of course the pleasure of being retired. But I have learned that tax-planning vigilance is needed. Moreover, I learned that major life transitions can cost you a lot in taxes if you don’t anticipate them. When we lost an exemption, it was not entirely bad. We won’t be paying for our daughter’s expenses in the future.

2015 will not be any easier for us tax-wise, as we will be relocating and buying and selling homes. But it was clear that I was not withholding enough money for income taxes. I tried a number of online calculators but even the IRS’s calculator is really deficient. It turned out to be easier to estimate income, deductions and credits in a spreadsheet based on the fields in a 1040, calculate my estimated 2015 tax from it and then figure how much I needed to increase my withholding so not to end up in this situation again. It’s about $500 more a month.

I hope in 2016 I find I am not similarly surprised.

 
The Thinker

There’s no place like house

Our six-month home improvement adventure is finally nearing a close. Our punch list: it’s nearly punched out. There are no large and annoying tasks to put our house on the market remaining. Some of those that do remain simply cannot be done right now. Most likely though the five inches of snow on the ground will melt and temperatures will stay reliably above freezing before our house lists in two weeks. When it does then I will pound those stakes into the ground to make the edging along our garden look right again. And we will pull the wild onion shoots from the garden as well. Right now though these imperfections are covered, quite literally! Two weeks from tomorrow, our house will get listed and a new set of hassles will start.

Inside our house though we are getting down to things that probably don’t matter. My touch up painting in the laundry room is pretty obvious. I’d like to repaint the walls, but not sure I want to buy yet another gallon of paint to make it look seamless. I am thoroughly sick of painting. I am sick of painting and all the crap that goes with it: caulking, patching, priming, masking, sanding, positioning drop clothes, taking knobs out of doors, and switch plates off the walls and putting them back in again. I am sick of cleaning up afterward and trying to get my paintbrushes clean yet again. It is more than painting, of course. To name just a few, I am also sick of constantly vacuuming, dusting, cleaning, trashing and rushing to and from the local Lowes.

There is still stuff that needs to be moved around or put away to make our stager happy, but for the most part that work is done. We are also loath to remove some stuff until the last possible moment, such as most of the items on our kitchen counter. If you encounter a kitchen counter minus most appliances, it’s a good sign that the house is about to go on the market. The assumed buyer wants to imagine her stuff on those counters, which is not your ugly toaster or your very used electric can opener. So we must make it look like no one actually uses our kitchen instead.

All this is really for the photographer. Twenty-one years ago when we bought this house, there was no World Wide Web. If you were lucky you had a brochure of the house to look at first that you got at your broker’s office. Instead, you generally depended on cryptic house descriptions that realtors gave you. They came from printouts off dot-matrix printers in the realty office. You plotted the actual locations of these houses using a local atlas so you could get some idea if the house was in a neighborhood that would work for you. Now your house is mostly sold online, thanks to your stager who makes each room unrecognizable to you but mostly thanks to the photographer, who has a unique assortment of extremely wide angle lenses that can make a bungalow look like a mansion. It will all be brightly lit, using Photoshop if necessary. The fancier photographers might use panoramic cameras with high-resolution detail so strangers can get 360-degree sweeps of your bedroom. That’s when you’ll be glad the stager noticed the bottle of lube on the bedstead and had you put it away in that special drawer with your many whips, frottages, restraints and adult DVDs.

Our house has been ruthlessly decluttered. We’ve given away literally thousands of dollars of stuff, mostly to Goodwill, mainly because we don’t want to invest the energy to sell it. Freecycle has been another godsend. It’s amazing what people will take when you advertise it for free. My wife posted on Freecycle four bottles of a sports drink she’ll never finish. Some slinky Asian American woman stopped by a few hours later in her gym clothes to pick them up; I guess she needed some electrolytes for her workout. My wife can give away practically anything, no matter how trashy I think it is, with a creative posting on Freecycle. A lot of stuff gets claimed in minutes. An occasional item will languish, but a reposting will usually get rid of it. Some stuff though is not even fit to give away. One (an outdoor table) literally fell apart as I helped to put it in a guy’s truck. He was nice enough about it and helped me haul it to the curb.

It took us twenty-one years but finally our house is clean and fit for human habitation. It’s just too bad that actual human beings don’t live in houses like ours. That’s because you have to be retired for six months with little else to do but fetishly turn the real into the surreal using lots of disposable cash to reach this level of crazy perfection. Real people fill their house with stuff (most of it junk, actually). Real people don’t vacuum daily, and they leave dishes in the sink, sometimes for days at a time. Real people (and we are guilty here) leave baskets of clean laundry lying around until some amorphous day in the future when we decide to fold them, by which time half of it has been picked out, worn and is back in the dirty clothes basket. Real people don’t scrub their sinks after each use, so it will look shiny and unused if some potential buyer comes by. I leave out rich people because they aren’t real IMHO. If you want to get some sense of what it takes to live 24/7 in a clean and well-ordered house, watch the staff in Downton Abbey. No one else has the time, except when buyers are house hunting. Then they expect to see a surreal HGTV-like house; a house that will never again appear once the first moving box is plopped down on the living room floor.

What the next owner of our house won’t notice or give any thought to is how much time, money, fretting and brute labor went into our house while we owned it. Developments like ours were sprouting like weeds in the mid 1980s, and construction standards were somewhat sloppy. Our house had many defects, stuff you wonder how any county home inspector could approve. Among the ones we encountered were drywall ceilings on our porch and the deck literally nailed into our sliding. We fixed these and many other defects, not to mention did a lot of remodeling, painting and repainting, replacing appliances, and fussing about dandelions and drainage in the backyard. We spent huge amounts of money, well over $100,000 according to my records, just to keep our house functional.

For the new buyer it all that comes free. Once they own it and entropy reasserts itself they will discover the real cost of home ownership. It’s something that we will escape, at least for a time, when we move into our newly constructed house in Massachusetts this summer. Moreover, the condo association will have to fix problems with the exterior of our house.

Still, despite the hassle and expense of being homeowers, with a mortgage that is still not completely paid off, I’m going to miss this home of ours, which BTW is now mostly just a house. I know that even after the messiness of this gargantuan change in our lives that I will often feel nostalgic for this place I still call home.

 
The Thinker

Deathwatch

My mother passed away ten years ago this November. Her decline and death and the vivid memories it brought back (many of which are cataloged here in my archives) were on my mind yesterday as our car, facing stiff headwinds scurried west on I-70. For we were on our way to say goodbye to another loved one. As we exited onto I-68 toward Cumberland, Maryland the wind tried to push us off the road while we also gained altitude. By the time we exited on U.S. 40 toward Uniontown, Pennsylvania there was snow on the ground in spite of the bright sunshine, while the temperature kept steadily dropping. When we pulled off the road toward Aunt Pat and Uncle Paul’s house on the Youghiogheny Reservoir the winds were still brisk and the early afternoon temperature registered a frigid 10 degrees Fahrenheit. With my warmest coat and hat on, it still felt cold outside in the sun. The dry snow crunched below our feet as we ascended stairs to knock on their door.

Cousin Beverly had phoned us a few days earlier to let us know that her mother had a stroke late last year. It paralyzed the left half of her body and left her largely unable to move or say anything clearly. Since then it had been all downhill, which meant of course a hospitalization, a nursing home, and now hospice care in the lower level of their home. We steeled ourselves. She may be on a deathwatch, but the house was warm and Aunt Pat had plenty of company. There was Chris, a good-hearted friend of Bev who had moved up for the duration. There was a nurse’s aid and later a LPN. There was Uncle Paul, Pat’s husband, who is in the early stages of Alzheimer’s disease, but was reasonably alert and chatty, and who greeted us warmly. There was a small friendly dog, as well as another friend of the family who seemed to be there for the duration, driven up from North Carolina by Chris. Those Adventists know how to stick together.

Except for all the attention to Aunt Pat at first our visit seemed sort of normal. She was in a reclining wheelchair, placed into it by Chris, her mouth now perpetually wide open, with just slits to show her eyes. Her body was a mess of bedsores and infections. A catheter drained her bladder. A tube going through her abdomen into her stomach provided nutrition of a sort. The LPN applied dressing to her wounds. When Pat chose to talk it came out as a moan but her meaning was clear: she was in pain. Her vision had been declining for years due to macular degeneration. She could no longer make out faces, but only see light and colors. She could hear what was around her, at least when she was awake, but had virtually no other ways to be understood. The stroke had largely taken away her speech. The guttural sounds that occasionally came out were hard to interpret.

She was ready to die, that much we knew through our phone conversation with Beverly. From seeing her up close and hearing her moans, death seemed to be something to hasten, not postpone. Her face was pallid. The stroke had stolen with it any sign of animation. Pat had always been a forceful woman, kindly but stubborn, and a woman of deep faith and conviction. Part of her faith required her family to do all they could to keep her alive. It was clear to me that these extraordinary efforts while well intentioned had the effect of being cruel. My own mother eventually died from a bladder infection due to having a catheter in her 24/7, but like Pat she also had congestive heart failure. Pat’s heart was having a hard time meeting her body’s needs. She was retaining water (not a good sign) and her oxygen levels were dropping too. And she was often moaning. This brought calls to a registered nurse and the injection of a rescue drug to alleviate her pain. It also brought a major decision. She was gently lifted from the wheelchair and into her bed. There she will stay until she passes.

In the living room with Uncle Paul, he seemed inured to his wife’s suffering. It might have been the Alzheimer’s, it might have been that her condition was very old news, so he was eloquent with us instead, anxious to hear how we were doing although it had been more than seven years since we last visited. A little dog bounded from lap to lap happily. Paul shared pictures of their life together while other adults fussed over Pat’s condition. Like his wife, Paul is a passionate Adventist. He can’t drive anymore, which means he can’t drive an hour each way to Cumberland on the Sabbath to attend church. There is, he happily reported, an Adventist channel on the satellite TV. Ministers come by regularly to provide pastoral care to both Pat and Paul. While the moans from his wife waffled from her bedroom, he informed us that in all the universe Satan lived only here on Earth, and we must resist Satan and follow Christ. (I didn’t ask why God put us here and if that made God a sadist, but I wanted to.) He had tried to convert us the last time we were here. We nodded dutifully but did not agree with his thesis. This was no time to disagree about theology, but Paul is too kindly a man to disagree with in any event.

Meanwhile Pat drifted in and out of consciousness. It was not clear much of the time if she was conscious, but when she moaned we at least knew that she was hurting. We weren’t sure what if anything she could say to us, but when she seemed reasonably alert and we listened closely, it sounds like “hurt”. No doubt. I touched her gently not wishing to start yet another bedsore. Her skin was paper thin and easily injured. “Aunt Pat,” I said, “they gave you a medicine for the pain. It should stop soon.”

My wife talked to her and tried to listen but it was mostly a one sided conversation. She told her how grateful she was to her. It was Pat that had took her in when she had to leave college. There were opportunities in Washington D.C. that did not exist in Flint, Michigan. Pat had hosted her and Pat had also pushed her out. She had the courage her mother seemed to lack to tell her it was time to stand on her own two feet. After leaving their house, my wife lived in a fleabag apartment, then in a high rise with a roommate and not much after that she ran into me. It was Aunt Pat that indirectly brought her into my life. As I held Pat gently I told her how sad I was to see her suffer, but how profoundly grateful I was that by choosing kindness for my wife, I found the woman I love.

I watched while the nurse’s aide frequently hydrated her lips and mouth. Tubes were periodically sent down her sinuses to remove mucus. All sorts of things were being done to keep her alive, but her systems were failing. The nurse told Paul that much. Her body was shutting down. Medicines would not work much longer.

My wife promised Pat that she would come back but I don’t see how it is possible. I can’t imagine that Pat will live much longer and we are three hours away by car. I never had the emotional attachment to Pat that I had to my mother, but I certainly grew to respect both her and Paul. When my time comes I simply don’t want these sorts of extraordinary procedures to keep me alive. She was suffering pointlessly and needlessly. It would be more humane to simply do the best to manage her pain but otherwise let her die a gentle death. For now she was living the script that her faith taught her: to keep her body alive as long as possible, even though there seemed literally nothing to live for except more discomfort and pain.

My wife was crying of course when we left and began another three-hour journey home. I felt it best to drive while she sat in her seat mostly quietly, a sad and vacant look in her eyes. I don’t expect Aunt Pat to last more than a few more days. I am certainly grateful to have known her. I wish her (if it is possible to state this without sounding callous) a swift but gentle death. May it come soon.

 
The Thinker

Panicking because of “Juno”

That’s what the marketers at The Weather Channel are calling the snowstorm now hitting the northeast coast: Winter Storm Juno. They do this I think because they can, even though the National Weather Service won’t deign to name these winter storms. Juno, or whatever you call it, has our attention as we are in a hotel in Western Massachusetts and are not particularly prepared for a blizzard.

What I was prepared for was 5-6 inches of snow to fall here on Tuesday, because that was the forecast when we left. By the time we had arrived last night the anticipated storm had turned into another Snowmageddon, with New York City’s mayor warning residents that the snow storm could be of epic proportions. This of course had me turning our hotel room’s television to the Weather Channel so I could join in all the anxiety. Last night 18 – 24 inches were expected to fall out here in Northampton. Later in the evening it had turned into two feet or more. Meanwhile, we are at a hotel here in Hadley, Massachusetts with a problematic tire, me with no snow boots and no snow shovel to dig out our car with. It was not hard for me to imagine how the situation could get worse, dangerously worse even. Our hotel loses power, no one arrives to make us breakfast and with all the grocers and restaurants closed down we were left to survive by breaking the glass on the hotel’s vending machine for calories. Actually, it would be worse than that. When we asked the hotel clerk, he said if the hotel loses power for eight hours, all guests have to leave. I guess we find shelter from a shrieking blizzard inside our car, or perhaps by tunneling our way into a snowbank. I understand snow is pretty good insulation.

Traveling in New England in the winter is always chancy, but I figured we could dodge this bullet too. As regular readers know, we are trying to get a house built up here, and that meant we needed to meet with the builder and architect, something best done in person. The sooner we can start construction, the sooner that we can move in. And so we came up again, although we were last here just five weeks ago. This time, because she is on vacation, our adult daughter Rose came with us. I guess she was curious to see why the heck we wanted to move 500 miles from her.

Fortunately, “Juno” deferred arrival until after our planned Monday meeting. Temperatures were in the teens, winds were brisk and the snowbanks were already high around here from a foot of snow dumped just a few days ago. We met with the builder and designer in a brisk and business-like meeting around noon, with still some open questions when it was over. Our sales agreement is not yet complete. Even if we can nail it down, no earth will start moving until we cough up five percent of the sales price and the city of Northampton agrees to allow the builder to at least dig a basement and put in a foundation. Even in the best case, after they move potentially two feet of snow off our property to be, it will take at least a week for some earth to literally move.

So for right now, our house is a longer-term problem, and “Juno” gives me something to fret over. My wife, a former Michigander that is used to large snowstorms, is literally blowing this off. “We’ll be fine,” she says and she condescendingly agreed to go buy some food and a snow shovel to assuage my sense of panic. Yeah, but she wasn’t a Boy Scout. I have to “be prepared”. Unfortunately, I wasn’t enough of a Boy Scout to be fully prepared before we left.

And so we are scrambling. Can we spend another day at the hotel if needed? Yes. Is there a backup generator at our hotel? No. Will there be a breakfast on Tuesday and Wednesday morning provided by the hotel? Probably, if someone can get here to prepare it. Will local restaurants be open? It depends on the amount of snow and wind, of course, but most if not all probably will shut down. We might be able to get a pizza delivered and most convenience stores (if you can get to them) should be open. In short, it’s unlikely, if we are eating at all, that we’ll be eating healthy.

So before “Juno” arrives, you scrounge instead. Hatfield is basically a huge strip, so scrounging is easy. I found some snow boots at a Famous Footware across the street. Target had a snow shovel in case I have to dig out the car. They also have some food we can heat if microwave in our room still has electricity. The Big Y around here passes for the Giant Food we have back home, and we bought more provisions there. Now we wait for “Juno”.

The forecast for our area is now 12 to 18 inches with high winds, which means blowing snow. Our realtor thinks the interstates will be clear and open on Wednesday when we plan to go home. I’ll try to turn on the Weather Channel less and slip into the hot tub adjacent to the hotel’s pool more.

At least until the power goes out.

 
The Thinker

Retirement journal: Part 3

It took about five and a half months of retirement but this morning when I woke up I realized had nothing pressing to do.

I guess that’s good. For much of these last months the pressing things were related to our pending relocation and mostly they involved fixing up our house. That work is mostly done. We got something of a Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval last week when our house stager came by to tour our house. It’s her job to make it attractive enough to draw a seller willing to pay top dollar. I was worried she’d want to bring in rented Ethan Allen furniture and make us move much of our furniture into storage, but there was none of that. She approved or at least could work with the furniture we have.

Her suggestions were for the most part easy to deal with: silver knobs and handles for the kitchen cabinets and lots of fluffy white towels for our bathrooms, which either she or our realtor will supply from their inventory. Our beds will need skirts around them. Perhaps the most onerous task is to get rid of the green trim in the living room, dining room and hallway. The green trim will become bright white, and that includes two doors painted green. Mostly she was positive. Our months of work have paid off. We’ll find out how well it worked around March 1, when our house will go on the market. If we get and accept an offer then a whole other process will start.

Already our home is becoming a house. Most of the personal items hanging from the wall have been put away. Possessions are moving into boxes that are getting stuffed into closets, probably not to be seen again until they are reopened in our new home. Furniture is getting moved around. Open space is what buyers want. So off went the valences that obscured the view of our deck, which makes our main floor now appear much larger than it is. Clutter like our coat tree is bad and we were instructed to hide it. Buyers must get the illusion of large and uncluttered open spaces, including kitchen countertops. Our many upgrades over the years are marketable. These include hardwood floors on the main level and granite countertops in the kitchen. The stager complemented us on our curb appeal and smiled when she saw our large backyard. It should appeal to someone or someones probably like us, just twenty or so years younger than us: someones with the time and money to tackle the endless tasks of keeping a house in good repair while actually living in it. I assume it would be a family with small children, but for some reason I imagine some gay or lesbian with lots of stuff buying the house instead.

Meanwhile our new home awaits construction. Nearly a month has passed since our last visit to Northampton Massachusetts where we will move but there has not been much progression on our attempt to get a house actually constructed. Both the builder and the architect inconveniently took two-week vacations during the holidays. The ground froze over while they went to warmer climates. The foundation is the first part of our house to go in. It doesn’t sound like frozen ground will keep us from having the foundation put in, but completion a P&S (purchase and sale) agreement has. We had to find a lawyer up there to represent us, and the owner of the plot is supposed to forward an agreement to our lawyer. It’s no big deal and it hasn’t happened yet, but maybe it doesn’t matter since we need to go up there again to have a meeting with the architect (now back in the snowbelt), and our amenities will certainly affect the price. In any event, we will need to find 5% of the assumed price when they start digging the basement, and any old check won’t do. It has to come from our credit union directly, because Massachusetts’s privacy laws prohibit the builder from seeing our account number.

There is a high probability that we will settle on the sale of our existing house long before the new house will be ready. This means we’ll have to live somewhere, so we’ll probably have to find temporary digs. We’ll likely move to some apartment or house near our new home, leaving much of our stuff in storage up there but unpacking quite a bit of it while we wait. The other possibility is that our house won’t sell for whatever reason. We will take all steps to prevent this of course, but it really has to sell if we are to pay for the bulk of the new house. Renting out the old house while buying the new is possible, but we’d need some sort of bridge loan. And it would raise the complexity of the whole relocation thing another notch.

All these things are in motion but at the moment not much of it requires our immediate attention. So today is something like a slack day, and it’s not the first. Last week we took in a Wednesday matinee. Apparently some theaters try to attract us people of leisure with discount Wednesdays tickets. That’s how we got to see The Imitation Game for $5.75 a ticket. It’s amazing how much less complicated living in Northern Virginia is when you can routinely get around outside of rush hour. It makes living around here almost pleasant.

I put out new versions of two open source programs that I have written. My consulting business continues to do well but at the moment there is not much in my work queue requiring immediate attention. When the weather cooperates I can get my daily walks in rather easily. I’m hitting the gym more often because most days are below freezing, but some days I take long walks in the cold air anyhow, bundled in my warmest coat, hat, scarf and gloves and with a podcast in my ears. I am contemplating starting a port of my two open source programs to a new platform, but finding the time to write my first app still is on the back burner, but something I want to do. It’s how I have fun, apparently. The idea is to sell an app or two, although most apps tend to languish, but hopefully it will generate some significant income worth the time invested.

In general, I am finding that retirement is good. I am still somewhat skeptical I can actually afford it, but a year or two of experience will prove it one way or the other. It’s not bad to bring in some income, but I do it mostly because I enjoy it, not because I have to do it. I want to stay busy and do stuff I enjoy but without feeling the pressure to make another mortgage or tuition payment. To find out if I succeed, keep reading these occasional retirement journal posts.

 
The Thinker

Occam’s Razor 2014 Statistics

Before I begin blogging in earnest for 2015, a look at this blog’s statistics for 2014. My web browser traffic has been on the downturn for years, but at least in 2014 that problem has been arrested, although modestly, with a 7% increase in visitors compared with 2013. According to Google Analytics:

Overall 2014 Web Usage Statistics

  • Total Sessions: 19,727 (54 per day), up 7% compared with 2013
  • Total Page Views: 26,104 (71.5 pages per day), up 5.2% compared with 2013
  • Percent of New Visits: 88.9% (85.4% in 2013)

Most Viewed Posts

  1. Site home page: 2,260 page views, up 25% compared with 2013
  2. Eulogy for my mother in law: 1,622 page views, up 66% compared with 2013
  3. Craigslist casual encounters: now a crazily dangerous and illegal waste of time: 941 page views, up 47% compared with 2013
  4. The root of human conflict: emotion vs. reason: 733 page views, down 2.8% compared with 2013
  5. Craigslist casual encounters: now officially a complete waste of time: 522 page views, down 77% compared with 2013
  6. Eulogy for my mother: 522 page views, down 44% compared with 2013
  7. The illusion of time: 454 page views, down 62% compare with 2013
  8. If Aubrey fought Hornblower, who would win? 313 page views, up 30% compared with 2013
  9. Facebook’s appallingly bad user interface: 312 page views, down 8% compared with 2013
  10. Review: What the bleep do we know? 251 page views (this was not in the top ten list last year)

It’s curious how few items on the Top Ten list change from year to year. My most popular content remains quite dated. Certain Craigslist posts though continue to score impressively, which perhaps justifies my monthly forays into my local Craigslist casual encounters section.

Top Tags

Tags are a way to organize content that are more discrete than the larger lumping of a category. Top tags in 2014:

  1. Craigslist (356 page views)
  2. Taxes (187 page views)
  3. Tarsal tunnel (130 page views)
  4. Mr. Spock (125 page views)
  5. Ideal Protein (107 page views)

Top Category

Sociology (54 page views)

Top Browsers

  1. Chrome (30.89%, 6,093 page views)
  2. Safari (23.07%, 4,551 page views)
  3. Internet Explorer (22.84%, 4,506 page views)
  4. Firefox (11.12%, 2,193 page views)
  5. Mozilla Compatible Agent (4.27%, 842 page views)

Safari is principally from iPhone browsers and indicates mostly mobile traffic.

Busiest month: January (3,001 page views)

Slowest month: December (1,622 page views)

Mobile sessions in 2014: 3,759 smartphone and 2,173 tablet sessions

% Mobile Visits of Total Visits: 30% (up from 26.3% in 2013)

Syndication

In the middle of the year I gave up FeedBurner as my syndicator, since it was clear that Google was not maintaining it. I switched to feedcat.net and it routinely shows me with more than 200 subscribers. It says I currently have 198 subscribers, which are the same as unique week readers. If this describes you, thanks for reading! More is good and it indicates a trend I’ve seen for a few years now where content is being read indirectly through aggregators and newsfeeds instead of through browser views. This explains, in some part, the drop in direct web hits over the last few years but makes it impossible to know what you are reading, although presumably it is current content.

Social Media

According to AddThis, which adds a tracking anchor to the end of URLs if you hit the site with a browser, there were 187 shares in 2014, with 147 via copying an address bar, 14 on Facebook and 11 on Twitter.

Google Analytics tracks social media differently. It looks at the referrer (referring web site) and if it’s a social media site, it counts it. It counts as top referrers:

  1. StumbleUpon (372 sessions)
  2. Facebook (164 sessions)
  3. Twitter (12 sessions)
  4. Pinterest (11 sessions)
  5. Blogger (5 sessions)

Reader profiles

Quantcast.com has a number of statistics about my readers. You are disproportionately male (68% of total), ages 45-54 (23% of total), childless and make more than $100,000 a year. I attract an overly disproportionate amount of readers with graduate degrees as well as Asians and Whites. I also tend to attract Democrats and politically active people.

Raw web log statistics

Finally, there are my raw web log statistics, which suggest the blog is overrun with visitors. Most of these are various search engines, not actual human beings, which means there are a whole lot of search robots regularly indexing the blog for a relatively tiny amount of human traffic. My web hosts provide a number of web log statistics analysis tools. I’ll use AWStats. For 2014 there were:

  • 343,687 visits (up 26% from 2013)
  • 142,246 unique visitors (up 37% from 2013)
  • 916,941 page views (up 11% from 2013)
  • 53 GB of bandwidth

More in 2016.

 
The Thinker

There and back again: a three-day nerve-wracking adventure in house hunting

It’s been a while since I have put out a post. When that happens it is usually because I am busy. Retirement is supposed to be less busy and more restful. So far that hasn’t proven to be true. Of course, most retirees don’t start their retirement actively working to move 500 miles away. We are moving of course to simplify our lives, but at least for a year or so it will make our lives much more complex.

Case in point was last Wednesday through Friday when we made a whirlwind visit to our future home in western Massachusetts. We had to go to pick a home. A confluence of events made a trip a necessity, but it all boiled down to my wife’s great desire to move into a new house. New houses don’t grow on trees, although it takes a lot of trees to make one. A new house takes six months, sometimes more to go from plot of land to house and it starts with the hassles of picking a plot and a style house at a negotiated price and then financing the deal. So we were there to look at a few final candidate-housing sites and hopefully make a selection. All this right before Christmas and after being delayed for a few weeks while my wife recovered from another cold from hell.

It could have been delayed again by winter weather, always problematic in December. But the weather gods were benevolent this time. We dealt with cold weather but no precipitation during our drive from Northern Virginia. We try to avoid the New Jersey Turnpike, which also allows us to dodge most Washington area traffic. So this meant sneaking out of town the back way, up U.S. 15 past Gettysburg, around Harrisburg on I-83, then I-81 to I-78, and then about forty miles of I-287 in New Jersey until we slipped into Connecticut on I-84. The only toll on this route was $5 to cross the Tappan Zee Bridge over the Hudson River. Traffic congestion was not too bad either: some roadwork on I-287 and some delay getting through Hartford during rush hour. Otherwise it felt surprisingly speedy, just 8 hours and 45 minutes with minimal stops. We arrived in Holyoke, Massachusetts in darkness and wended our way back to the now comfortable D Hotel where we had stayed in August. The affiliated restaurants at the hotel were jammed with locals there for holiday parties, but the hotel itself was largely empty, which was how we could get a room there for $68 a night at a Hotwire rate.

In the winter the Northampton Massachusetts area remains pretty but definitely looking different than in the lushness of summer. The trees of course are largely bare and the days are very short with near total darkness by 4:30. There was no snow on the ground except in a few piles in parking lots, but the temperature was at or below freezing most of the time with stiff breezes. It’s a beautiful area even in the winter without snow, but one thing I noticed in this trip is that it is obviously less prosperous than Fairfax County where we live. All the money in our county buys large houses that are newer in general but also meticulously well maintained. Fairfax County also has stricter zoning: no ugly billboards to view driving down the road. In Northampton there are quite a few shabby houses, shabby mostly due to age (many are a hundred years old or m ore), but also because people earn less there. Northampton has pretty good zoning laws, but go outside the city limits to places like Hadley across the Connecticut River and it quickly turns ugly. No place is perfect.

Thursday was decision day and it was as challenging as you can imagine. Next to deaths in the family, divorce and losing a job, buying a house out of state must be the next most challenging event in life. In August we had scouted lots of neighborhoods so we knew what we liked and where. In January there is not much on the market. But if you are going to have a house built it’s a bit past optimum time to place your order. Ideally you make these decisions before the foundation is laid but it took months of discussion for us to get this far. This late in the year it is problematic but still possible. Wait too long and groundbreaking is likely to occur April 1.

We looked at a new community being built in Hatfield, a bit north and east of Northampton. The houses we looked at were large and quite fancy, not to mention an excellent value. It’s just that no one was actually living there yet, and only one plot of the 12 had been sold. Two units had been finished, and one was under construction.

The salesman with a ring in his ear told us his husband was the architect and was currently out of state. (I mentally noted how completely banal gay marriage was in Massachusetts. It is so institutionalized that no one gives it a thought.) While I loved the house, Hatfield did not agree with me. It is filled with mostly old houses, very large and many not well maintained, often with a farm in the backyard. There was no bike path, no restaurants to speak of and no place to buy groceries beyond a corner store. My wife really liked the community but I couldn’t see myself spending the next thirty years in a community that did not appeal to me, no matter how nice the house. It was not yet noon and already we were in arguing.

So it was back to the 55+ community near Northampton that was the reason for our visit. Armed with our buyer agent realtor Craig, we met again with the realtor selling the property to go through available plots and other issues. Our realtor took us through a nearby park and we ate lunch at a local diner while we argued and tried his patience. Eventually we sent our realtor back to his office while we went back to the hotel to hash through all the options and then drive through both neighborhoods again.

We took a break to meet a client of mine living in the area. We met him at Joe’s Pizza in Northampton, so popular that even on a cold Thursday night there was a significant wait for a table. But the pizza at least lived up to its reputation. My client Roger turned out to be a really nice guy and we all got along great. Count one future friend in my future neighborhood. Roger helped take our mind off the impending decision and we agreed to sleep on it. Sleep was somewhat restless as we weighed in our own minds the size of our decision. Having a new house constructed would most likely mean we would close on the sale of our house first, so we’d have to endure temporary housing in the area. We were not thrilled with the alternative, but it’s the price to be paid when you make the decision to go for a new house.

Morning though at least brought clarity: we wanted a particular lot in this community in Florence, which is on the west side of Northampton. We ate breakfast at Sylvester’s in Northampton while trading calls with our realtor. Mostly though we needed to get back on the road for home. The greyish skies suggested snow and/or ice but nothing happened. The weather improved the further south we went. We tried a different route going home by taking I-84 through southern New York State and northern Pennsylvania, then connecting with I-81. It turns out it is just as quick as our other route, much less used and thus much less likely to be affected by traffic accidents. We made great time. Driving time was about eight hours.

Once back home we immediately started trading emails with our realtor and chatting with him on the phone. Yesterday we went back and forth on the wording of an offer. It was declined, not because they don’t like us, but because the seller wants a guarantee that we will buy the house even if our current house doesn’t sell. So more paperwork remains and our credit union will get a call in the morning.

Three days. There and back again. More forms to fill out. More paperwork to file. More decisions to be made. More house to clean and prepare to show. The house decisions at least is made but waiting to become more concrete. A new year approaches. 2015 looks like it will end a whole lot different than where it will start: in our new home in New England.

 
The Thinker

Misery loves company

My eyes: they are burning. My nose: it is itching and it is sending occasional signals to my lungs to make me sneeze which I do explosively, usually three times in a row, followed by blowing my nose several times until inevitably the cycle repeats itself. In short I have a cold, or perhaps just cold symptoms. The former is more likely because for nearly two weeks my spouse has been under the weather too. She had one of these two-week killer colds last year about this time, and it is back. Until two days ago I had resisted acquiring whatever she had. It’s likely I have something else, but in spite of the regular sneezes from hell that hurts muscles in my back, this is actually a good sign. For me anyhow the cycle rarely varies. The explosive sneezing phase lasts a day or two, but it comes at the end. It takes a few more days for my voice to recover.

One can love one’s spouse while secretly wishing we weren’t sharing so much of our intimate space this way. The last two weeks have been like this, but not because I find my wife particularly grating. I’m used to her and her ways but when she suffers, which is about half the time, she won’t suffer in silence. She’ll let me know and I can’t do much but fetch things for her, offer sympathy and make occasional suggestions that get largely ignored (“why don’t you see a doctor?” “oh, it’s just a cold. there’s nothing they can do.”) until the misery reaches some unbearable zenith and then she is off to the urgent care clinic. Colds come and go but she also gets persistent migraines and other forms of headaches, as well as other chronic issues which effectively mean she spends what seems to me to be half her life, maybe more, in some form of misery. Doctors rarely give relief. She bears it as stoically as she can, which is not much. And so another day ends, a new day begins, and the pattern is likely to repeat.

We go through boxes of tissues at alarming rates but otherwise soldier on. Retirement is supposed to be about enjoying leisure but so far there hasn’t been too much of it. I go to bed later and wake up later, but the business of preparing our house for sale consumes much of my working day, otherwise I am doing consulting when there is work in my inbox. The consulting remains mostly pocket change, if $6000 so far this year is pocket change. The preparing the house for sale task though keeps going on, but there are signs of the edge of the forest. The kitchen gets repainted tomorrow and that is likely the last room to get a full coat of paint.

Between moaning in misery about her own condition, my wife chastised me today for working on the house when I am sick. Experience suggests I will spend the day sneezing regardless, so my feeling is I may as well work, which today involved mostly laying masking tape along edges of floors and cabinets in the kitchen, and painting the baseboards in that room. It’s what I do. I just sort of soldier on because if this is a cold then it’s a minor one, so I might as well keep going. It beats dwelling about how I don’t feel great. The fix up list keeps expanding somehow, but I also know our clock is running out. With my wife out of commission so much, I must take up her slack and that usually means painting something but occasionally involves some minor carpentry, shuffling off donations to places that will take them, or two nights ago, installing some new blinds in our front windows.

Despite the continuous minor construction, the house is looking good. I feel good about all the work and the $7000 or so in direct expenses so far since I retired trying to make the house look new instead of 30 years old. Yesterday I was touch up painting. A new carpet went down in the basement a couple of weeks ago. It looks good and for the first time in the 21 years we’ve been in the house, the basement actually feels warmish in the winter. The house is sort of battened down now with curb appeal, but inside there is still clutter that needs to be sorted through, windows that need cleaning, and more painting to be done. I am guessing we are about 85% done at this point. The hard stuff is largely behind us.

It sometimes seems surreal that we are likely to be moving within three to six months. We had our realtor at our house yesterday and penciled in March 1 as the date to list the house, but maybe February 1. It all depends on decisions not firmly made yet, and one involves whether to have a house constructed near where we plan to live near Northampton, Massachusetts. If so groundbreaking will have to wait until spring thaw, which is usually April 1, and construction will take about six months. House selling though is best done in the spring. It’s peak market and selling at other times of the year is problematic. This means temporary housing is likely in our future, something we are not looking forward to but will likely have to deal with. On the plus side it’s relatively easy to move 5 miles instead of 400.

Our Christmas lights are up on the porch for the last time. The tree will go up at some point too, largely because my daughter will expect one when she visits us on Christmas morning. My wife has done her Christmas shopping. I haven’t started it yet.

I taught my last class at Northern Virginia Community College last night, somewhat challenging as the cold symptoms had kicked in. The final exam is next Tuesday and that should end my fifteen-year off and on again teaching as an adjunct at the college. Teaching there feels comfortable now, so leaving this part of my life leaves me feeling wistful. I’m not sure if I will be able to find teaching opportunities where I end up. I may be closing this chapter in my life.

In retirement I thought I’d have plenty of time to exercise, but it’s challenging getting it in. Working around the house takes up much of my day, and involves a lot of moving around. I figure it counts. I walk around the neighborhood when I can but lots of rain has made walking outside problematic. The gym is still an option, but it’s hard to find the energy to go. Lately I’ve been going only every other week or so.

So that’s basically my life, at present.

 
The Thinker

Black Friday protest at Walmart

Remember this post? Well, probably not. Anyhow, in it I promised to try to eke revenge against the retailers of the world for the shabby way I was treated when I was a retail worker (1978 to 1980) for the now defunct Montgomery Ward Corporation which today is even worse. Now that I am retired, lack of time was no longer an excuse, so I made a note on my calendar to attend a Black Friday protest at my local Walmart (Sterling, Virginia in my case) to protest their appallingly low wages and working conditions.

Signing up was easy. I was already a member of Making Change at Walmart, the site to go if you are not a Walmart employee but want to support their cause. I get regular emails from them and have even made a couple of contributions to their strike fund over the years. I was urged to find a Walmart Black Friday protest near me, so I simply filled in the web form and marked the date and time on my calendar. For several years now, the Our Walmart campaign has targeted Black Friday for protests because it is the busiest shopping day of the year. This year a record 1600 store protests was planned.

Thus far my protesting had been confined to mass events on the national mall. This kind of protest would be a lot different. The number of protestors was likely to be small and Walmart would doubtlessly be on the lookout for us. Protest rules were pretty murky, but seemed worth whatever minor risk it entailed. This is after all Walmart: the nation’s largest, nastiest and stingiest employer. Every year they find new ways to screw their “associates”. Among their egregious tactics over the last year were requirements to buy their own uniforms, canceling health insurance for certain part time employees (doubtless few could afford it in any event), cutting the hours of workers (leading to predictably long lines at cash registers and empty shelves) and erratic schedules. All this for an average wage of $8.80 an hour and where you might get an extra dime per hour the next time your performance was reviewed.

With several weeks of notice, I wanted to see if I could convince any others to join me. Notes on Facebook did not turn up any nibbles, so I sent a note to Paul, chair of the social justice committee at my local Unitarian Universalist Church. He agreed to sponsor the protest for our church. I made sure announcements were posted in the church bulletin and hoped a few members of my congregation would join me. We have less than 200 members, so I kept my expectations modest. Fortunately for me, it got the attention of certain influential women at the church (a.k.a. the Knitting Circle, which my wife attends) who were also suitably outraged and started making protest signs. On protest day, eight of us with signs in hand were ready to protest.

However, our protest organizer weaseled out. Early on Black Friday morning we found an email from him in our inboxes. He claimed insomnia the night before and canceled the event, but he did encourage anyone that wanted to to come out and protest. We took him up on it.

I confess it was hard to get in the protesting spirit when the temperature was in the low thirties with gusty winds, but we were ready. We met in the church parking lot, collected our signs and drove out to the Sterling Virginia Walmart. As we moved toward the entrance we encountered an older couple from Illinois in town but with signs. We were it, apparently, but at least with ten protestors we got into the double digits.

Black Friday protest against Walmart's labor practices at Sterling, Virginia store

Black Friday protest against Walmart’s labor practices at Sterling, Virginia store

For 10 AM on a Black Friday, there weren’t many people going into or out of this Walmart. We stood silently outside the Walmart entrances, being careful not to impede pedestrian or vehicular traffic. Occasionally we got a toot of a horn or thumbs up, but mostly we stood and shivered. We had a feeling though that it would not be long before Walmart management noticed us. We were prescient. After about ten minutes, a Walmart security officer told us we were on private property and we could only protest on public property. He pointed us to a hill at the far back end of the parking lot. Dutifully we walked back there. This was not an ideal location, but it was convenient to incoming traffic so we stood there with our signs and waved them up and down as cars went by.

Apparently we were not far out enough. After fifteen minutes or so we found we were observed by officers in two cars from the Loudoun County sheriff’s office. Eventually an officer approached us with the Walmart store manager. We patiently explained we were directed here by their store security. But, no, we were still on private property we were told. Walmart owned all of it. Some sort of conglomerate of course typically owns shopping centers, so it is in theory all private property. It’s pretty clear that Walmart wanted us way out of the way, like outer Siberia if possible. The closest truly public property, we were politely informed, was a median strip on Nokes Boulevard, which led into the parking lot.

And so we shuffled out there with our protest signs, dodging aggressive traffic to do so. We got the occasional thumbs up and toot of a horn in support, but mostly Walmart had gotten us out of the way, which is probably the strategy it emulated at many other stores. Had we had more protesters, perhaps we would have been harder to dislodge. After about an hour we ended our protest and moved on.

Nonetheless we were in reasonably high spirits. Without professional organization, we didn’t know what to expect or what was legal, but Walmart’s response felt very scripted. The store manager was never angry with us, but after the event one of our crew took a few of our signs into the store, and tried to give them to the store manager. She was intercepted by an assistant manager, and told she was unwelcome in the store, and ordered to leave.

Making change at Walmart is hard, not so much for us outside protesters, but certainly for Walmart employees who join the Our Walmart movement. They frequently suffer illegal firings or reduced hours. They are much braver than we were. We were just testing the protest waters, but I think I know where I’ll be next Black Friday. And hopefully we’ll be better-organized next time, and our organizer won’t use the weasely excuse of insomnia for not showing up.

As a practical matter, real change is happening in two fronts. First, many states and communities have realized that since retailers won’t raise wages and the federal government won’t, they must. So cities like Seatac in Washington State have raised their minimum wage to $15 an hour. In Northern Virginia, $15 is a living wage, but just barely. Those Walmart workers earning $8.80 an hour or so at their Sterling store are probably working a couple of other part time jobs just to get by. They may very well be getting some government assistance, which means your taxes are subsidizing Walmart and other retailers scandalously low wages. More recently, the city of San Francisco passed a retail workers bill of rights. It requires employers to make up work schedules for their part time employees two weeks in advance, helping to give them some predictability to their schedules. This addresses the sad reality that part time work these days does not supplement other wages, but is what many workers try to live on.

Do not assume that minimum wage workers are mostly students living at home and thus it’s okay to pay the $7.25 an hour. The average age of a minimum wage worker is 35. These people are hustling simply to survive in poverty. They deserve a living wage and better working conditions and hopefully just one job so they get some downtime. It’s quite clear though that Walmart will continue to frustrate and obfuscate attempts at justice for their employees until the price becomes unbearable, i.e. it seriously affects their profits and sales. I will do my part to make it unbearable.

 
The Thinker

Retirement journal: Part 2

(Note: Part 1 was actually a post I made a couple of days before I retired.)

I’m about three and a half months into this retirement thing. Aside from the first eleven days when we were on vacation, there has been little retiring (as in leisure) so far in my retirement. I understand this is typical. My father said he was never busier than when he retired. What has changed is that mostly I am doing more of what I want to do, and less of what I had to do. But also preparing our house for sale has become something of a second job.

I’ve never been one to be passive. I prefer to have things to do. Fortunately, fixing up the house forces me to move around. It also requires a certain focus. It’s not something I work on every day. Tuesdays in particular are full of other activities as I teach a class on Tuesday evening. The work involved in teaching peaks on Tuesday but teaching activities occur during the week. I grade homework. I prepare a quiz. I monitor my faculty email. I make a lesson plan. It takes roughly six hours of work to do the work to teach the class. I do it at times that are convenient to me. As classes go this one is a great one to teach and it’s a subject that I enjoy.

Managing finances is taking more time as well. This too is something I enjoy. Perhaps I should have been a banker, or a financial planner. It used to be that I would open Quicken once a week. Now it is open all the time and I add transactions as they come in. My computer, which I used to turn off every night, now stays in sleep mode at night. It hasn’t been fully powered off in weeks.

Living on a fixed income is a challenge, particularly when you don’t know what your fixed income is. That ambiguity is gone. My pension was finalized on November 2, so now I know how much of that income I have to work with. It’s pretty much what I figured it would be, which is good. Still, it’s a lot less income than I am used to, and until the house is sold we are still carrying a mortgage, just not much of one (about $23K in principle is left). Meanwhile fixing up our house for sale is hardly free. It’s a major expense. As I type this I hear hammering in the basement as carpet tack strips are laid in the rooms down there. The basement carpet is being replaced before sale. Even with the cheap carpet, the job comes to about $3000, and that includes stretching the carpet upstairs that has expanded over the years. So there is a cash flow problem at the moment and it will continue this way for some months, all while our income shrinks. It’s predictable but it’s still a little unnerving to spend more than you take in month after month.

The regular trips to Lowes and Home Depot continue, and there are other expenses where I have to pay professionals. There are some aspects about our house that no longer meet the building code. We added a second rail to the stairs going to the basement. We’d have to add it anyhow. I’ve had plumbers out twice to fix chronic issues. We found a good handyman who took care of lots of little things like patching up the deck and adding a concrete step to our front porch. These were things that I would have done if I could have. It looks though like we are almost at the end of this phase. There is still a month or so of work to do, but it’s mostly stuff I can do that is straightforward and not too costly. New chores get added regularly to my task list. The latest: an upstairs toilet seal is broken and water is leaching down to the half bathroom below it. I’ll have to repaint the ceiling of the half bath after the toilet is fixed.

Months ago I complained about how hard it is to remove the clutter and crap in a house you have lived in a long time. We are still at it! There are still boxes of stuff to dump, donate or sell even after innumerable trips to Goodwill. The other day we attacked a closet in our TV room and discovered what my wife called a wardroom to Narnia. In an old trunk were decades of science fiction magazines. There was also a camcorder someone gave to us that we never used, and my 1984 Commodore 64 computer I still can’t part with, although it’s been twenty years since I turned it on. Also in there: a Betamax VCR that we posted online. Someone will pick it up today. All this work is necessary if you are going to move but not in the least bit interesting. It takes time and money, the sort of time you only have in retirement. I can’t imagine trying to fit this in on nights and weekends while I was still working.

In addition to teaching, I am still doing some consulting, mostly for pocket change. It’s clear to me though that my business is doomed to dry up. I sell consulting services for forum software (phpBB). The phpBB group recently released a new version of the software that will be much easier for people to upgrade and maintain by themselves. So my goal of writing apps in retirement may be a better way to earn some income. I haven’t actually written any apps yet, but that’s a minor detail. In reality though I don’t have much time to learn apps right now. This is something to do after we are resettled, if I can find the time then.

My biorhythms are changing. I had no idea what they were because until retirement I’ve always risen and went to bed on someone else’s schedule. Now, I seem to get naturally sleepy around 11 PM. Also, I am sleeping more than I expected, generally a solid eight hours a night. I wake rested and stress free.

One downside of retiring is not having some place (an office) to go to daily. Teaching a class and volunteering at my church gets me out and about, but irregularly. I do miss the daily interactions with my colleagues at my former job. I am out of the office politics loop unless someone posts something on Facebook or I attend some sort of event where they are. It was truer at USGS where I ended my career, but I have had the opportunity to know interesting people everywhere I worked. It’s hard to keep in contact with them in retirement in any meaningful way. And some use the opportunity of retirement to cut you out of their lives.

Mostly though I see few downsides to retirement so far. A couple of years of experience may make me more sanguine about its downsides.

 

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