Where are the rats?
Retirement report: Week One I am coming to you today from a new zone. There are no rats here. Or, at least, they are not yet discernible to me as rats. There are certainly people here. People for whom time is different. For whom the days have a rhythm of their own making. People who rise without aid and who close their days when they want. It is a strange and wondrous zone this one. Still wholly unfamiliar to me, but one I am keen to befriend. I have entered it with a plan, though without a map. There is no map, of course. Each one who enters this zone arrives alone. We each find our way. We look to others. We take our cue from those more practiced in these ways. And we find our own. My feet are with me in this zone, but they are not yet firm beneath me. Though I have already learned it is possible to eat breakfast at noon on a Tuesday and to enjoy potato chips at 4pm any day. Not because a bell rings or a meeting is called. But just because. And that is wondrous. My desk is spare.