Posterous theme by Cory Watilo

The Rules of Retirement

Retirement is not all it's cracked up to be...
My husband Norman, the grumpiest grampy in living memory, had been trying to persuade me to retire for a year or two, and when I finally agreed to sell and buy a small retirement apartment near our three daughters, we expected to continue life at a leisurely pace. 
Theatre trips, picnics, days trips and holidays were all part of the plan. No chance!
I also planned a healthy lifestyle. Swimming twice a week, walking in the park, lazing on a summer's afternoon on the banks of a river. Not exactly happening at the moment.
Ever since we moved in it has been a struggle to find time to cut my toenails! My dream of rising late, giving the flat the once-over and off for the day, has gone straight out of the window.
When I was working full time, I had no idea people socialised so early in the morning! Practically every morning someone rings the bell while we are still in our PJ's. 
And being a sociable couple I put the kettle on, the grump cooks up a pile of bacon sarnies, we get chatting and another day slips by. How did we ever find the time to work?
Not a lot of people know this, but there are rules when living in a retirement complex. 
Most of the rules are common sense like don't come in drunk and wake up your neighbours playing air guitar in the stairwell at 3am. Gotta keep a check on that one!
But Rule Number One is about the shared laundry facility. Two industrial washing machines and tumble dryers for 34 apartments to use. A doddle wouldn't you think? Hmmm read on...
After staying at a hotel while the decorators were in, we landed with quite a bit of dirty washing. 
On arriving at the laundry with two loads, I observe a notice telling me to use just one of the machines  'for the convenience of other residents'. So I use one machine and struggle back to our first floor flat with the other load. 
Making several trips back to the laundry only to find that someone else is using the machines, I took to leaving the dirty washbag in the boot of my car until Ann Onymous and friends thought I must be taking in washing and reported me to the warden.  Laugh out LOUD! 
I've bought my own washing machine now - quite annoying as I gave a perfectly good washer-drier to our Rachel when we moved in - but I may need to use the driers, so don't put the binoculars away just yet ladies...