Beginning to get the feel of it

I danced a little hula around the dining room this morning, singing "I am beginning to feel it." "It" being "retired." Husband cracked up when he caught on. It seemed late again when I got up at 9:30 today. But last night I did not sleep solidly as I usually do. The night was punctuated by restlessness, coughing, a strange bird cry flying down the hydro cut, irritating fabric in my new pajama pantlegs, pain in my injured rotator cuff making comfort impossible, the Guernsey book calling to be finished which I managed by moving to the couch, the mantle clock striking 3:00 and then insisting on tick-tocking noticeably instead of silently. I returned to bed and slept from 3:30 to 9:30 - sort of. And yet when I did get up, I was elated by the lack of agenda, at least any outside agenda, dictating how I would spend my day. I had to look over a letter to be sent with the documents required for an audit of last year's medical expenses claim on our taxes. Other than that, I got the pot of beans put together by 11 to cook for 8 hours in a slow oven. As it turned out, they were not quite the right beans after all and cooked a little quickly so they were ready in 6 hours. I made us some toast for sandwiches at lunch - slicing half of a bright yellow tomato for mine. Past mid-afternoon I tackled the trimming of three shrubs in our front garden. It went quickly because I was not pruning them, just giving them a bit of a haircut. Nonetheless, by the time I finished I was hot and tired and ready to put my feet up. As I sat in my recliner, I sorted through bundles of receipts and statements and enjoyed a vodka and soda. Supper was simply a bowl of the baked brown beans with bread and butter, followed by sliced strawberries. Yum! Frittered away the rest of the evening playing solitaire while watching an old Video of Brigadoon. Van Johnson, Gene Kelly and Cyd Charisse. What could be better? A fat packet of receipts, summary statements and a fine cover letter is ready to send off to the Tax man, no great thanks to me (I did make encouraging and approving noises as well as find a couple of receipts and proof the letter). Oh, and alas, our daughter called and we told her that due to her dad's summer cold, we could not possibly come to the cottage tomorrow. It will have to wait until Saturday. Good thing. I'm not packed.