Like a complete unknown

Bob Dylan.  I just loved all the angst (as much as a 15 year old could understand angst).

I'm on my way home, I was  thinking about the garage sale I am having in the office trying to get rid of all of the great stuff I had in there.  I can't bring it home.  Of course, I have no intention of bringing home the plaques, certificates, and awards.  But what about my posters, plants, and all those little things that have made that office my home and given me pleasure.  No.  Don't even think about it.  Haven't I been bragging for six months that I am cleaning  "all that junk" out of my house?  Where would I put this other life (the office life).  Really how could it fit in...and I am thinking physically but also metaphorically.  I mean, I'm retiring to leave all of that behind.  Right.

Then it happens again.  Driving down the Pike (a different one this time) in the almost new convertible thinking about retirement, and then DYLAN.  Like a Rolling Stone ('65).  How does it feeeeeel?

How does it feel

To be on your own

With no direction home

Like a complete unknown

Like a rolling stone?

Dylan, once again introducing angst into my life.  Isn't this what I am afraid of?  How will it feel to be on my own, a complete unknown.  


I never promised I'd have all of the answers right at first, and I don't know how this is going to work out, but will I become a complete unknown?  Blogging might be the answer, but perhaps volunteering will fit the bill, or going on those exciting trips I'm going to take, or raising orchids!.  Keep reading and the answer will unveil itself, I hope.

When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose

You're invisible now, you got no secrets to conceal.

Friend says we are going to the gym in the morning.  Hmmm.  Body Pump Instructor?  More likely Silver Sneakers.