This month I officially reached the age at which I am eligible to collect Social Security. Should there be deep meaning in that? I can see none. I'm still working so I won't be collecting it just yet. I summarized my feelings about this point in my life a couple of months ago. I think that was about right. The passing of my birthday changed nothing.
For the past five years I have housed a friend and grad student in the upstairs of my home. I was apprehensive at first, but it worked out well and it was a way to enhance the life of someone I care about, which I maintain is the ultimate purpose of life. I'm delighted that she achieved her goals and she has left to kick off the next chapter of her life, but she had a cat that I got very attached to. I find I developed more habits concerning the cat than I had imagined. Rituals around feeding and scratches and cardboard boxes I habitually start to do even in its absence. Basically, I miss the cat. (No, I have to tell my friends, do not get me a cat to help me heal from my loss. I leave town too often to take proper care of a pet.)
Next month -- my new book. For sure.
