Life After 60

There was a time when I waited for Sunday. After a week of work, and I worked hard, a day of rest  was very welcome. I loved to sleep.  I am not an atheist, and I go to church maybe once a year for  midnight mass on Christmas eve. So I'm not a churchgoer basically. Therefore Sundays did not mean  that I was seated in the pews in church listening to the pastor's sermon.  The pastor, in fact,  would not recognise me until my sister, who goes more often to church, introduced me as her brother  after Christmas Eve mass. I also had a problem sleeping and would lie awake at nights trying desperately trying to fall asleep. I tried counting sheep and it never worked. I also tried those sleeping videos on YouTube. I listened  \ and felt bored. They were not music I was familiar with and they kept my eyelids firmly apart. Even a safe  tranquillizer that my doctor prescribed did not have any effect. The on...

Cupid you must have heard of, the impish little fellow with a bow and arrow that is forever shadowing lovers. He has a cousin who is less well known. It is Boredom. He wields a blowpipe with which he wreaks mayhem, shooting darts at people who have little to do but twiddle their thumbs all day. The day came when the office was able to see my boots darken its doorstep for the last time. There was also a chorus wishing me a ‘happy retired life’. I nodded happily all around little knowing what I was letting myself in for.  At home I unpacked the goodbye presents and was thrilled to see that one was a microwave oven and another a dinner set. I also got a box of sweets. My elder daughter immediately confiscated them saying that it was too bad that I could not have them. She does not like sweets either, so I did not know what she did with them. The day after was glorious. The alarm did go off, but I put in on snooze. I put it back on snooze again after it rang. Then I swi...

“He that fears every grass must not piss in a meadow,” my Cat told me as he chewed contentedly on my slipper. “Is that what you have been doing?” I asked suspiciously. “It’s just an ancient proverb that my grandmother taught me,” he said, “this slipper is good, where have you kept the other one?” “When will you stop snacking on my slippers?” I asked in disgust. “Let me eat them first,” the Cat said contently. “Why don’t you go after the mice?” I asked ind ignantly. “I did, but they got a stay order from PETA,” he said. “They did?” I asked, “then you can approach the International Court of Justice!” “Too far away and I don’t have a passport,” the Cat said continuing to tear the slipper with his teeth and claws. “You can always stow away, can’t you?” I questioned sarcastically. “The Court does not entertain illegal immigrants,” he sighed. “If you are going to eat my slippers, what is the point of getting cat food?” I asked ann oyed. “Var...