Another rainy and semi-windy day. My neighbor and new-found-friend and I decided not to go fishing; tomorrow the forecast is somewhat better. So I sat, watched the rain, napped, listened to music and thought.
Why am I doing this trip, anyway? Contrary to what I've been telling anyone who asks, it's not just to avoid shoveling snow this winter. I think it is more out of boredom, or lack of purpose. Before I stopped working, I was busy; work had, up until the last couple years, occupied and interested me. Teaching, training, help develop new products, refine existing ones, on and on. I went from that to basically twiddling my thumbs. I thought my interests would occupy my time fine: fishing, travelling, seeing and doing things not done. Turns out they don't.
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