Sep 11 2026 2026-09-11 2026-09-11 NoComment by Ross

The Book Series That’s a Soap Opera…

Posted in Books

Earlier this year, I started watching Joe Pickett on Paramount+. I liked the show, but I kept reading that the books were better. So, naturally, instead of simply enjoying the television show like a normal person, I decided to commit myself to reading an entire series of novels.

Joe Pickett is the main character in 25 novels by C.J. Box. He starts as a game warden in Wyoming, briefly works as a ranch hand, and eventually becomes a special game warden working for the governor. I’m only on Book 8, so who knows where this goes. Governor? Senator? Secretary of the Interior? Manager of a Bass Pro Shop?

Anything is possible.

It was while reading Book 8 that something finally occurred to me:

Joe Pickett is a soap opera.

A soap opera with elk.

I probably should have figured this out earlier. For one thing, Joe solves an astonishing number of murders. I’m pretty sure the number of homicides Joe Pickett personally encounters over the course of the series approaches the total number of murders committed in Wyoming since it became a state.

If Joe Pickett ever moves into your county, sell your house.

Still, I accepted this. It’s fiction. People have to die, or there isn’t much of a mystery. Nobody wants to read 350 pages of Joe Pickett and the Mysterious Case of the Expired Fishing License.

But then I got to Book 8.

A dead character came back to life.

And that’s when the soap opera smacked me directly in the face. Ohhhh. I see what we’re doing here. Now I’m fully prepared for the future.

Book 9: Joe gets amnesia.

Book 10: Joe discovers he has an evil twin.

Book 11: Marybeth falls into a coma but can still hear everything everyone says around her.

Book 12: Joe learns that his father isn’t actually his father.

Book 13: Someone gets pushed down the stairs at the governor’s mansion.

Book 14: Nate Romanowski marries a mysterious European countess who may or may not be working for the CIA.

Book 15: The entire previous book turns out to have been a dream.

And I’m here for all of it.

Because the funny thing is, I really enjoy these books.

And this isn’t really a criticism unique to C.J. Box. If you’re going to write a series that lasts for decades, eventually there’s going to be a certain soap-opera quality to it. There almost has to be. You can’t write 20 or 25 books about the same group of people without eventually reaching the point where readers say, “Oh, come on.”

I’ve read plenty of Mitch Rapp books, and I’ve said “Oh, come on” out loud more than once. Probably more than once in the same chapter.

That’s part of the deal with a long-running series. You suspend disbelief. Then you suspend it a little more. Eventually disbelief is dangling from the ceiling by a rope while you happily turn the page.

And there are plenty of things about the Joe Pickett books that make me want to keep going.

I like watching Marybeth’s business grow. I like that Joe’s children actually get older instead of remaining conveniently frozen at the same age forever. I like seeing the family change over time. Joe’s mother-in-law is always good for comedy. Nate is a great character. And I love the descriptions of the mountains, small towns and open spaces of Wyoming.

As someone who loves that part of the country, sometimes those descriptions are enough to make me want to pack up the Jeep and head west.

Preferably to a county where Joe Pickett isn’t currently working.

So yes, I’ve realized I’m reading a soap opera. There are just fewer hospital rooms, more horses, and considerably more discussion about elk. And the good news is that I’m only on Book 8. I’ve got 17 more episodes to go.

I can’t wait to find out who has the evil twin. (Though I might get weepy when Sheridan goes to college)


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Sep 11 2026 2026-09-11 2026-09-11 NoComment by Ross

Yeah, the only thing that’s left to do is live…*

Posted in Music, Something Good

In a few minutes, I’m going to a funeral for a young woman (late-20s, early 30s) who committed suicide a few weeks ago. This is the third such funeral in as many years.  The first was a former student, then a colleague’s daughter, and now this one.  Each one is tragic and haunting.   When I was in college, a kid I knew from middle school up committed suicide.  I think about him all the time.  Pretty much any milestone or even random days.  I might be kayaking or skiing and think, “Gee, S will never get to do this,” or “I just turned 60; that’s old, but S never even turned 22.  He missed it all.”

I get it.  Depression can be fatal.  I can add a few parents from my kids’ school to the list.  Maybe it’s a function of being old that I know so many people who killed themselves.  I don’t know.

Then there are the physical illnesses.  I sort of got mad at my wife at dinner the other night because it was the second dinner she kept bringing up all the people who died recently or have cancer.  Tragically, a youngish lawyer with five kids just died of cancer, and my wife knows another lawyer battling it.  Both are in their 40’s.

My father’s best friend was in a car crash (my dad was in the back seat) and lost his leg.  As a result, he had circulation problems and died young.  Another one of his friends had a heart attack and died in his low 50’s.  My dad became terrified of death.  He was super cautious about everything.  It didn’t stop him from getting Parkinson’s and bladder cancer, but it was more his bleak outlook on life.

Anyone who knows me knows I have a bleak outlook on life.  Mostly, I’ve found it a chore.  A bunch of struggles and nonsense and then you die and nothing mattered.  I’m great at parties!

But lately that’s been changing.  Mostly since I gave up the struggles.  Now, everytime my wife talks about someone who has cancer, I listen politely, because no matter how much I act like it, I’m not really a dick, but my ultimate takeaway is “yes, that is tragic, but that just tells me I need to live all I can now.”

I don’t know when I’ll get sick and die.  I know I’ll die, don’t know the sick part.  I could get run over by a bus while walking to the funeral.  Still, I had a nice run in the cool sunshine this morning; I’m planning to go kayaking this afternoon.  I’ll read, finish a movie I’m watching, and play guitar.  I won’t think about tomorrow’s woes.

As the man sang, the only thing that’s left to do is live!

(he finished the song with “the only thing that’s left to do is get another round in at the bar,” so I think I’ll have a martini tonight in honor of not being dead yet (also one of his lyrics))


Sep 09 2026 2026-09-09 2026-09-09 NoComment by Ross

I’ll Stick With My Current Model Forever….

Posted in Misc

The new foldable iPhone is going to retail for $1,999. 

And for that reason, I’m out.

I’m am curious what will happen in this market.  I’m starting to think they will raise prices more than features warrant and people will start demanding, not dumb phones, but basic smartphones.  I want to pay $1200 for 2000 megapixel cameras when a simple camera is fine.  Frankly, I don’t know what else would justify the pricing structure….other than people are buying them and the “value” is what a willing buyer will pay a willing seller.


Sep 09 2026 2026-09-09 2026-09-09 NoComment by Ross

Trip One…

Posted in Travel

One of the things I said I wanted to do with my newfound unemployment/retirement/semi-retirement/whatever-we’re-calling-this was take some trips. Nothing particularly elaborate. Just go places, see people, and enjoy the fact that for the first time in a very long time, I don’t have to worry about getting back to work on Monday.

Trip One is officially in the books.

This weekend I drove up to a friend’s cabin in northern Wisconsin. I’ve always loved that part of the world. I went to camp up there as a kid; we took vacations in northern Wisconsin, and there’s just something about the lakes, trees, little towns, and bars where you’re pretty sure nobody has ordered a martini since the Eisenhower administration.

My friend’s cabin is in a campground, and the day I arrived they were having a big potluck picnic. It was not in my honor. But since it coincided perfectly with my arrival, I have decided to remember it that way.

The Welcome Ross to Wisconsin Festival featured good food, bags—which I did not play—beautiful weather, and some excellent drunken drama that, for once, did not involve me. There’s something very enjoyable about drunken drama when you have absolutely no role in it. It’s basically live theater. We hung around there most of the day, and that night we went to the bar on the property to play Picto.

Picto, I learned, is basically Bingo with pictures. I did not win. I strongly suspect anti-Illinois bias. I have no evidence of this, but that has never stopped anyone from alleging a conspiracy before.

The next morning, a few of us went shooting. This was actually something I’d wanted to do for a long time because I have a confession: I have owned a shotgun for about 15 years and had never fired it. Worse, I wasn’t entirely sure how to load it. There is a longer story explaining how a person comes to own a shotgun for a decade and a half without knowing how to operate it, but we’ll save that for another day. My friends showed me how to use it safely, and I finally fired a few rounds. They brought a variety of rifles and handguns, so we spent some time trying different things. I was also amazed to learn that the outdoor range—with several different shooting areas—was completely free.

Free! In Illinois, I assume we would have paid $38 to park and another $14 convenience fee just to walk to the range.

That afternoon was almost the exact opposite activity: a few of us grabbed inner tubes and floated down a river. And that may have been my favorite part of the weekend.

It was incredibly peaceful. I found myself doing something I’m not always very good at: being completely present. I wasn’t thinking about what I needed to do later. I wasn’t replaying yesterday or worrying about next week. I just floated. I looked at the different trees, shrubs, and grasses along the riverbank. I watched turtles. At one point there was a beautiful eagle sitting in a tree above us. And I just took it all in. No phone. No schedule. No destination that particularly mattered. Just floating down a river in northern Wisconsin.

It was about as close to meditation as I get without somebody telling me to close my eyes and focus on my breathing, which usually just makes me wonder whether I’m breathing correctly.

We eventually returned to civilization, had dinner at a bar, and later that evening I may have overserved myself back at the cabin. Apparently mindfulness has its limits.

Monday morning, I hung around for a while talking with my best friend before finally getting in the car and heading home. He had suggested I stay until Tuesday.

In retrospect, he was right. Traffic was awful. The drive home took about an hour longer than the drive up. Normally, that would have driven me crazy.

But somewhere along the way, sitting in traffic, I realized something: I wasn’t in a hurry. I didn’t have to get home to prepare for work. I didn’t have emails waiting for me. I didn’t need to mentally prepare myself for Tuesday morning. There was no alarm clock looming.

I’m retired. Or unemployed. Or taking a sabbatical. We’re still working on the branding. Whatever I am, I have nowhere to be and all the time to get there. And that’s a pretty wonderful feeling.

So Trip One of my planned fall/winter/spring adventures is complete: northern Wisconsin. Good friends, good food, a little shooting, a long float down a river, an eagle, some completely unrelated drunken drama, and absolutely no reason to rush home.

Next up: Boston in October.

I could get used to this.

 


Sep 08 2026 2026-09-08 2026-09-08 NoComment by Ross

How Not to Train…

Posted in Running

Friday – Dang, I’m limping badly.  My foot hurts.  I think I have a stress fracture.  Good thing I’m going out of town this weekend. I can take a day or two off from running.

Tuesday – Okay, it still hurts, but it feels like I’m mending.  It hurts, but not as bad as Friday.  I bet with a few more days I’ll be right as rain.  Nah, I think I’ll go for a run and make sure it doesn’t heal.

Sounds about me.


Sep 03 2026 2026-09-03 2026-09-03 NoComment by Ross

I’ll say it…

Posted in Misc

There is nothing worse in the arts world than a one-man show.

Alan Alda IS Winston Churchill.  $68.  One night only at the Glenview Community Theater.

See Pauly Shore BECOME Gandhi at the Ravenswood Covenant Church on 9/11.

Nothing. worse.


Sep 03 2026 2026-09-03 2026-09-03 NoComment by Ross

Four Days Into Retirement: A Performance Review….

Posted in Life

Don’t worry. This won’t turn into a daily retirement blog. But that has been the most recent issue in my life, so that’s what you get for another few days.  This weekend I’m going to Wisconsin to hang with friends.  It’ll be bars, bags, guns, and fun.  Then I’ll turn this into a “bad decision” blog.  Anyway…

Yesterday, a friend asked how it is going. All in all – and granted, it’s been four days – it is going well. In large part, simply because of a change of mind. Permanent vacation vibes.

Retirement is easier when you actually believe you’re retired.

For the past several months, I was stuck in this weird limbo where I didn’t know where I’d be working, how long I’d be there, or whether somebody from CPS would suddenly decide I should report to a school 47 miles away because a guidance counselor’s cousin heard I once taught government.

Now I know exactly where I’m reporting every morning:

Nowhere.

And I have to admit, the commute is fantastic. I do not miss driving in Chicago traffic. At all. There hasn’t been a single moment when I’ve been sitting at home drinking coffee and thought, You know what would make this better? The Kennedy.

I also don’t miss having to be at work at 8:00, which, for me, meant being there by 7:30 because, apparently, I spent my entire working life afraid someone might catch me arriving on time.

On a morning like today, I’d already be leaving the house. Instead, I can drink another cup of coffee. Read the paper. Read the Bible. Eat breakfast. Exercise. Put something away as part of my ongoing Swedish Death Cleaning project. Look at the clock.

9:17.

Well, shit. Now what?

That is the one downside I’ve discovered. Retirement mornings are delightful. Retirement afternoons are…long.

In the morning, I get my exercise done. I read. I do whatever little tasks I’ve assigned myself to maintain the illusion that I’m a productive member of society. Then sometime around 1:30, I realize I’ve completed everything on my agenda.

I can read some more.

I can watch a movie.

I can take a nap.

I can stare at the dog until she becomes uncomfortable.

Normally, I’d go kayaking, take the dog somewhere, ride my bike, or just get outside. Unfortunately, Chicago has decided to celebrate my retirement by being approximately the temperature of Mercury’s surface. It’s been in the mid-90s, so I’m not taking the dog to the park unless I want to return home carrying her in an oven mitt.

But something else has happened that I didn’t expect.

I’ve slowed down. Literally.

When I walk to the gym to swim, I just…walk. This is new for me.

Normally, walking is simply an inefficient way to get from one thing I’m supposed to be doing to another. I walk quickly because I need to get to the gym, swim, shower, get dressed, get home, and move on to whatever comes next.

Now I amble.

I walk to the gym. I swim. I take my time getting dressed. Then I amble home. I’ve even started running farther from my house, knowing I’ll have a longer walk home afterward.

Because why not? There is nothing waiting for me. For someone who has spent most of his life rushing from one thing to another, this is surprisingly pleasant.

The other adjustment is that I’m alone a lot during the day. Yesterday after swimming, I stopped at Starbucks and sat there reading for a while. Yes, I wanted coffee. Yes, I wanted to read. But mostly I wanted to be among the humans.

I didn’t need anyone to talk to me. I just wanted confirmation that civilization was continuing while I was at home reorganizing a drawer. So I need to work on that part.

My original plan was to substitute teach a couple of days a week, which seemed perfect. I’d get out of the house, make a few bucks, interact with people, and then leave before anyone could ask me to join a committee.

Unfortunately, I quit a little too late for that. The private schools have their substitute rosters filled, and CPS apparently isn’t even hiring substitutes. (but I really didn’t want to work for CPS again anyway)

So, ironically, after spending the last few months desperately trying to escape teaching, I am now unable to teach.

Life comes at you fast.

I’ve started looking for other things. Next week I’m volunteering at a senior center where I’ll help play Bingo. I’ve volunteered there before, but back then anything in the evening came with a calculation: How tired will I be after work? How late will I get home? Is this worth giving up my precious free time?

Now? Sure. Bingo. Let’s get crazy.

I also signed up for two board-game nights at local bars. I like board games. I like bars. The only downside is going without a wingman, which isn’t exactly my favorite thing. But maybe I’ll meet some people who also enjoy board games, have a beer, and spend an evening arguing with strangers about whether I am legally allowed to place a settlement there.

Four days ago I was a high school teacher.

Next week I’m playing Bingo at a senior center and searching the Internet for other retired people. This transition is moving quickly.

There are also trips coming up. I’ll spend time at Webster, Wisconsin this weekend. October in Boston, November/December in Ohio, January in Utah, February in California, March in Banff.

Once winter arrives, I can ski during the week. And one of the nicest things about all of those things is knowing there isn’t work waiting for me afterward.

No Sunday dread. No wondering what fresh organizational insanity awaits Monday morning. No commute. No 7:30 arrival. And no feral fourth period.

That last one is important.

Whenever I start thinking, Maybe I should have kept working, I remind myself that every year there was at least one class that made me question every decision I’d made since birth.

Even at my old school, where I generally enjoyed teaching, there was always that class. You teachers know the one. The class where the bell rings and you briefly wonder if you could make a living selling plasma.

This year, my feral class was a double period.

A DOUBLE PERIOD.

So if I find myself bored at 2:15 one afternoon, sitting comfortably in my air-conditioned house wondering what to do with myself, I can always close my eyes and remember what 2:15 used to feel like.

Suddenly boredom seems pretty damn good.

I don’t know what this version of retirement will ultimately look like. I don’t even know if it is retirement. I may find another job. I may teach a college class. I may volunteer more. I may buy a little business. I may become the most feared 60-year-old board-game player on the North Side.

Or maybe I’ll just learn to be a person who doesn’t need every hour of every day filled.

That might actually be the biggest adjustment.

For most of my life, I’ve had somewhere I needed to be and something I needed to do. Now, for the first time in a very long time, I can walk slowly.

So far, I kind of like it.

And that’s the mindset shift.  I’m living for me each day.  Not in a selfish way.  I do chores at home, make my wife dinner, etc, but I’m not on anyone else’s schedule or demands.  Like I said, vacation vibes.  And knowing it’s not just a week or two but could be for the rest of my life actually makes it easier.  My life has slowed down to a speed I’m enjoying.  I don’t rush.  I don’t stress.  I don’t worry.

For one, since I was a toddler, I’ve just been living each moment and enjoying that.

As the man said, “Enjoy every sandwich”

 


Sep 03 2026 2026-09-03 2026-09-03 NoComment by Ross

Random Song of the Day

Posted in Music

This song popped up on my random “liked songs” playlist.  I hadn’t heard it in a bit, but I instantly remembered why I saved it to begin with.


Aug 31 2026 2026-08-31 2026-08-31 NoComment by Ross

Throw in the Towel…

Posted in Something Good, Work

Last night I resigned.

I’m done. I threw in the towel. And, strangely enough, it feels pretty good.

The funny thing is, I actually liked my job. Not necessarily this job, in its current bizarre incarnation, but the actual job I signed up to do. I liked teaching. I liked working with kids. I liked creating lessons. I liked those moments when a student suddenly understood something, or got interested in something, or just stopped staring at me like I was an obstacle standing between them and lunch. There was a reason I chose teaching as a second career.

Unfortunately, at some point the job I liked became a smaller and smaller part of the job I actually had. What remained was the dysfunction.

The uncertainty over where I would be working. The uncertainty over how long I would be working there. The possibility of being moved every month or two. And finally, the announcement that I was being sent to some bizarre assignment almost as far from my house as one can travel while still technically remaining in Chicago.

Three hours a day in the car. For what? Nobody could really explain.

That, of course, was almost beside the point. The way it was handled was simply another example of how seemingly everything is handled.

Eventually I realized I was in an abusive relationship. Sure, there were some good times. And the paychecks were nice. Really nice, actually. Let’s not pretend I won’t miss those. But eventually you have to stop saying, “Maybe they’ll change.” They’re not going to change.

So I packed my metaphorical suitcase and left CPS.

I don’t know what’s next. That sentence is as scary as it once might’ve been in my life.

With the exception of a few years when I was transitioning careers and staying home with my kids, I’ve worked since middle school.  Since then, I’ve almost always known what came next. School led to a job. A job led to law school. Law school led to being a lawyer. Eventually, law led to teaching.

There was always a next thing.

This time there isn’t.

I can’t really say I’m retired. But I also can’t really say I’m not retired.

Maybe I’m retired for a month. Maybe six months. Maybe forever.

Maybe there’s a third career out there waiting for me.

But keeping with my relationship metaphor, I’m never going to meet the right one if I insist on staying with the bad one.

So, for once in my life, I’m going to see what happens.

I have some ideas. I’d like to volunteer. I’d like to get involved helping adaptive athletes. I’d like to find some game nights and meet some new people. Maybe one of those things will turn into a job. Maybe something completely unexpected will turn into a job. Maybe nothing will. That’s okay too.

Because I already have plenty to do.

For starters, my travel calendar somehow looks considerably busier than that of someone who supposedly has nowhere to be.

Labor Day in Wisconsin. Boston in October. Ohio and South Carolina in November. Ohio again in December. Skiing in Utah in January. A West Coast hockey trip in February- three games, three arenas. Skiing in Banff in March.

And that’s just what I’ve booked so far. Apparently unemployment requires a surprising amount of travel.

When I’m home, I’ll practice guitar. I’ll strength train. I’ll train for triathlons. I’ll read. I’ll cook. I’ll volunteer. I’ll kayak while it’s warm and ski when it’s snowy. And maybe, occasionally, I’ll do absolutely nothing.

I’m going to have to practice that one.

Mostly, though, I’m going to enjoy my life. That’s it. That’s the goal.

Not necessarily for the rest of my life. I’m not making any grand declarations about what I will or won’t do six months from now. For the next few days, weeks, months – or maybe years – I’m just going to enjoy myself and see what unfolds.

I’m letting go of the idea that I need to fight everything. For roughly 30 years, my professional life has been divided between two systems that desperately need people willing to fight to make them better: criminal justice and public education.

I fought. Sometimes I even won. I helped some people. I hope I made things a little better for a few of them. I know there are students I helped. I know there are clients I helped. There are probably some people I helped without ever knowing it. And there are plenty of battles I lost.

For years I’ve felt a little like Sisyphus, pushing that damn rock up the hill, watching it roll back down, muttering a few obscenities, and then getting behind it again.

Well, somebody else can grab the rock. I’ve done my shift. That doesn’t mean I don’t care anymore. It doesn’t mean the problems aren’t important. It just means I’ve finally accepted that I don’t have to fix them myself.

Someone else can fight that fight.

I can walk away with my head held high.

I showed up.

I cared.

I tried.

For 30 years, I pushed.

That’s enough. So I’m throwing in the towel. I’m putting down the rock. I’m walking away from the fight.

And for however much time I have left – whether that’s 30 years or considerably less – I’m going to try something radically different.

I’m going to enjoy it.

 


Aug 29 2026 2026-08-29 2026-08-29 NoComment by Ross

There Is Another Way to Go Through Life…

Posted in Work

I’m about 75% sure I’m going to quit my job this week. That sounds dramatic, so let me explain.

I was laid off this summer. But because I have tenure, being laid off doesn’t necessarily mean being unemployed. Instead, I became a “reassigned teacher,” which is one of those wonderfully bureaucratic phrases that means, “We don’t really have a job for you, but congratulations, you still work here.”

Honestly, my first reassignment wasn’t terrible. I wasn’t exactly living my educational dream, but I was getting paid, the commute was manageable, and nobody had set me on fire. At this stage of my career, I have learned to recognize a win.

Then today I got re-reassigned. I’m not sure “re-reassigned” is an actual word, but I’m pretty sure it is an actual CPS employment status.

My new school is approximately as far from my house as you can get while remaining within the city limits of Chicago. Any farther and I believe I would need to obtain an Indiana teaching license. Depending on traffic, I’d be looking at something close to a three-hour round-trip commute.

Three hours.

I could fly to Nashville faster than I could get home from work. So I requested another assignment. Maybe they’ll change it. Maybe they won’t.

But somewhere between looking at Google Maps and contemplating spending 15 hours a week sitting in Chicago traffic, I realized something:

I don’t think I care. Not in the bad way. In the good way. I think I might just be done.

When I was in college, there was a wonderful used bookstore on campus. One day I stumbled across a book of sayings by Hugh Prather. It was very 1970s, very philosophical, very “perhaps we should all sit beneath a tree and reconsider our relationship with the universe.” I loved it.

There was one thought that has stuck with me for decades. I don’t remember the exact wording anymore, but the idea was that there is another way to go through life besides kicking and screaming. I remember thinking that was brilliant.

Then I apparently spent the next 40 years kicking and screaming.

Excellent implementation, Ross.

But maybe I’m finally ready to try the other way. Because I’m tired.

I’m tired of CPS.

I’m tired of bureaucracy.

I’m tired of caring deeply about things while sitting in rooms where it sometimes feels like caring is an eccentric hobby.

I’m tired of pushing the rock up the hill.

Camus famously imagined Sisyphus happy. Good for Sisyphus. I imagine my Sisyphus checking his pension, dropping the rock, and saying, “You know what? Somebody else can push this thing for a while.” And then going home for lunch.

Maybe that’s where I am.

I’ve worked since I was in seventh grade. I’ve had jobs almost continuously for more than four decades. I’ve been in the Army Reserve. I’ve been a lawyer. I’ve been a prosecutor. I’ve been a teacher. I’ve had deadlines, bosses, clients, students, court calls, meetings, lesson plans, alarm clocks, commutes and people asking me to do things that could absolutely have been handled in an email.

Maybe I’ve done enough for a minute. Maybe I don’t immediately need another career. Maybe I don’t need a five-year plan. Maybe I can just stop.

I can wake up and decide what I want to do that day.

I can exercise.

I can read.

I can learn something completely useless.

I can practice an instrument.

I can cook dinner.

I can do things around the house that have been sitting on my list since approximately the Clinton administration.

I can volunteer at a food pantry.

I can help people who actually want my help.

I can explore hobbies.

I can write.

I can travel.

I can sit outside on a Tuesday afternoon and commit the radical act of not being anywhere else.

And maybe after six months I’ll be bored out of my mind and desperately searching Indeed for something to do.

That’s possible.

I know myself. There is a nonzero chance that by November I will have taken up woodworking, started a small business, joined three nonprofit boards and somehow become treasurer of a neighborhood organization I didn’t know existed.

But maybe not.

Maybe I can learn how to simply live for a while. That idea feels strangely uncomfortable. Which is probably a sign that I need it.

So, yes, I’m 75% sure I’m quitting this week.

Maybe CPS will give me a better assignment. Maybe they won’t. Strangely, that doesn’t seem like the important question anymore.

The important question is whether I really want to keep pushing the rock.

For the first time in a very long time, I think I’m willing to consider putting it down.

Hugh Prather was right. There is another way to go through life besides kicking and screaming. It only took me about 40 years to consider trying it.