There Goes My Early Retirement

I got some bad news this week. My mom called from Idaho late Wednesday night to tell me that my 77-year-old father, who has been living with Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD) for the past several years, was tired of all the unnecessary suffering and had given up the fight. She was elated.

“I can’t believe it!” she said. “After 57 years of marriage, he’s finally going to hire someone to mow our lawn!”

Apparently, he’d done the math earlier that day and concluded it was going to be cheaper to start outsourcing the work (factoring in things like how global warming will naturally moderate grass growth) rather than replace his vintage mower, which has been “sounding funny” ever since he ran over a water meter with it back in 2003.

So why is this bad news? Because now if I make it through the pandemic my family is going to expect 27 more years of yard work out of me.

Thanks a lot, Dad.

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