Oh, I can't tell you how great the temptation is to simply pack it in. Brother, I'm this close to just saying the heck with it and making my hiatus a permanent retirement.
What do I need this for? My so called "friends" and "followers" are nowhere to be found. They're long gone. And frankly I don't even care. If they couldn't bear with me through a little thick -- as in thick and thin -- this brief hiatus, then I don't need or want them around when things get thin again.
But maybe things will never get thin again. Not if I give in to this aching, nagging, persisting, insisting temptation to, as I said, pack it in permanently. I'm this close, very very close, right on the edge, the verge, the precipice of saying That's it, that's all she wrote, bye bye, don't write and, especially, don't visit.
And the day I say Bye bye for good, you shouldn't expect to see me again. When I ride off in the sunset, I don't come back. At that time, at that point I have nothing left to give. Either because I've given all I can give or because I refuse to give any more. I can be very stubborn like that. You don't want to know. You don't want to push me.
Retirement looks great to me, I have to say. Nothing to do all day but sit around. Maybe grill a slab of meat, shoot some clay pigeons, take a walk down by the old millstream and watch fishermen cuss out their snags and fart on their bait for good luck. Plus, retirees get a special license plate and, I'm not sure but I think they get a handicap sticker for their car. That doesn't really make any sense though. I'll check that. I don't know where I got that idea ... I'll nix it.
Everyday for a retiree is blue skies as far as the eye can see. On a clear day, a retiree rises and looks around. And what he sees astounds him. Because he can literally see forever and ever. If you know anything about the infinity of space that poets tell us about, you know that you don't suddenly reach the end. That's what these precious ones can behold all day, all because they've quit their job, packed it in, reached the end of the road, and now have nothing more important to do than to be looking up at the endless skies. And occasionally having a root beer float.
That sounds great right about now! Just great. And I'm this close to going for it. Can't get any closer without going over the edge. If anything happens to push me over the edge, this is the absolute last word you'll hear from me. I'm sorry but that's just how it has to be. I said "If." Because if not, I'll be back tomorrow.