I think I'm up to retirement #4 now. I keep going back to work, even though I'm approaching 78.
The last I worked was in April, at the real beginning of the fears about the pandemic. I decided to dealt with my anxiety by writing an essay a day for the first thirty days. And I bought an electric bike to get out of the house safely and to get some exercise. It worked.
I'm still writing nearly every day, but some of it is for another book I'm working on. My goal is to finish it while I wait for the vaccine.
Being older helps to step away from the "Tyranny of ambition." I have nothing to prove at this point in my life. What a remarkable feeling that is.
So let's say it together: FUCK OFF