I don't know about you, but in the midst of my daydreams, I often find myself planning the intricate details of my retirement years. Not the financial details of course, only the fun parts.
When I graduated from college a few years back, everyone seemed to ask the very same question, "So... now that you've graduated what are your plans?" And I'd usually give the same reply, "I’m planning to skip the work thing all together and head straight for the golden years of retirement." For some reason, most of my friends and family members thought I was joking around—definitely not the case.
Obviously things haven't fallen into place exactly as I’d hoped, but I've crunched some numbers and we've adapted the dream accordingly.
Here's a rundown of the updated plan:
At age 62, Jared and I will sell our house, our Blazer, and our dog. We'll use the profits from our house to do the only sensible thing—buy a gently used RV. And we'll use the profits from our car to do the only other sensible thing—commission an airbrush aficionado to trick out the exterior with a custom piece of artwork. We're talking six-foot-tall caricatures of Jared and me, arm wrestling our ‘lil cartoon hearts out, while we wear matching t-shirts that boast the slogan "FREEDOM ON WHEELS." And finally—last but certainly not least—we'll use the profits from the sale of the dog to eat at the Cracker Barrel five or six times.
Our outfits have been well thought out, too. We will have seven matching his & hers wind suits (one for each day of the week), bright white Reebok sneakers, and sensible haircuts that are oh-so-easy to maintain. We'll live in the rig full time, and drive that beauty from coast to coast as we visit grandchildren, ride every roller coaster in the continental United States, and stop at a Will Ferrell movie every chance we get.
I just started this job, and I like it pretty well, so you’re probably wondering why I have retirement on the brain this afternoon. The answer my friends, is very simple—I just finished chatting with our local electrical inspector, Joe. Joe works four days a week, in two different towns, inspecting the electrical systems in new and renovated buildings, and get this—Joe is eighty-eight years old!!! According to our conversation, he's retired three different times, he has pensions coming at him from four different sources, and he just can't stand the thought of sitting around at home. Obviously, he’s one hell of a guy.
So tell me this...Are you an Amy or are you a Joe? Do you dream about work or do you dream about play? If you tend toward the side of sweat and toil, feel free to spare me the details. But if you dream about shuffleboard at the senior center, then I want to hear all about it. What do you plan to do with your golden years?