Repurposing career clothes
Although I did experiment here and here with repurposing some of my career wardrobe, I quickly lost interest. I don’t dress that way anymore, basically living out of one laundry basket full of casual and athletic wear.
And yet … I’ve decided to keep what’s left – a jacket, a suit, a few skirts and a pair of slacks. At least for a little while longer. Reasons, in no particular order:
- I’ve pared it down to just a few pieces anyway, so it’s no big deal to keep them hanging in the closet.
- The pandemic has probably changed career fashion forever. I don’t think my style will be popular with anyone but me.
- All the charities I checked want larger sizes, and I don’t want to bother with consignment.
- They fit well and look good on me. Sometimes lacking other options, you have to wear your confidence.
- It’s more fun to dress up when it’s not 100 degrees. Fall is just around the corner.
- These are not normal times, and you never know what will happen. Post-pandemic renaissance? Apocalypse? I might need nice clothes.
The joy of movement
I visited the physical therapist, and all in all, it went well. I have some nits to pick about the process, but I heard what I wanted to hear. Basically, she said I have good mobility and should continue to do everything I want to do in terms of golf, swimming, stretching, walking and weights. With regard to osteoporosis, she said to avoid jumping and jarring movements but otherwise keep moving. Her team can help me with strength and balance.
They stretched out my problematic left buttocks area and decorated it with Kinesio tape, which presumably helps with muscle pain and inflammation. I must say it seems to be working! They put the tape on while I’m face down in the “child’s pose.” Of course, I can’t put the tape on myself, so I had Dale take a picture of me in case we need to replicate. He took the picture, but I’m not sure he’s on board with taping me. It’s not like I’m asking him to shoot an apple off my head.
I played golf twice, and I could definitely feel the burn, but I think it was just the normal aches and pains of returning to exercise after a 10-day rest. I tried to take it easy, forget about the score and feel the joy of movement. I will try swimming today.
Note to fellow retirees – be gentle but move as much as you can as often as you can. Mobility goes away quickly and is difficult to recover.
The limitations of movement
Movement is one of the reasons I don’t outsource housework. I do most of it, but Dale does make significant contributions to our efforts. The balance inside the home isn’t really an issue, but I did talk with him about adding some additional chores to his list. He’s always cooperative, but it annoys me that I have to spell it out for him.
Yardwork is a different story. This is where the limitations of movement are hitting home. I tend to be a workhorse, and as I always joke, Dale likes to put on a clean shirt and go bye-bye in the car. For the record, he does laugh when I say that!
Our neighborhood association maintains the front yard. We don’t have a huge backyard, and the pool takes up most of it. Dale has always said it wasn’t worth the money to hire someone to mow and blow such a small area. Especially since I ended up doing it most of the time. But there’s also pruning – and in previous years, that also fell to me.
Newly armed with spunk and MRI results, I said that time is gone. Beyond mow and blow, count me out. Shortly after my proclamation, he actually mowed and edged. I didn’t even know he knew how to use the edger. In the spirit of cooperation, I got out the blower and cleaned up. See how nice it is when we work together?
Message received. It went in one ear, stayed there and didn’t go out the other.
That means I’m shopping for some sort of landscape service. Although it’s not a big financial commitment, my first thought was I’ll start collecting Social Security later this year, and I could just pay for it from that account.
But my second thought was no way – why is it my responsibility? I know he truly doesn’t care who pays for it, he’s like yeah, whatever you want, but I remember all those bags of yard waste from last year, and my less kind self wants to see him cough up some cash. Reparations, if you will.
Oh, shit, this is bad
Lest we get too judgy in our aging years, Dale announced this morning he couldn’t find his keys, which include both house, car and mailbox. We looked everywhere, including the neighborhood mailbox, because he has left them there before.
Alas, no keys.
My smug self was thinking I would keep the mailbox key separate so as to avoid such a situation. But that’s me. Then I went down the path of we’re getting older, him especially, and this is likely to happen more often. Lost things. Kitchen fires. Who knows? From there, I plummeted to, “He’s got dementia. Oh, shit, this is bad.”
We went to a few doors asking if anyone picked up keys from the mailbox. Nothing. One neighbor was like, oh, shit, this is bad, and I said, indeed, I’m trying not to be judgmental. Another neighbor said to check with the Homeowner’s Association – people sometimes turn in lost items. Dale tried calling, and a recording said they were closed. I said, “Well, let’s just drive over there and see. I’ve got my keys.”
I reached into my purse and pulled out my keys. Except they were not my keys.
Wait! These look like your keys!
They are my keys!
We both burst out laughing. Apparently, he’d left them on the counter downstairs after picking up the mail, and when I was scooping stuff up after I came home from golf, clearly exhausted from exemplary play, I thought they were mine and dropped them into my purse.
One would assume he’s now thinking, looks like Donna has dementia. Oh, shit, this is bad.