There comes a time in everyone’s life when they decide they need to rest. A metaphorical end to the whole stick-your-nose-to-the-grindstone-until-you-make–a-bunch-of-money deal the Saratoga High is so good at cultivating.
Beloved teachers retire after decades of shaping future society-members, while grandparents retire to spend more time with their grandchildren. From my vantage point, it looks like a pretty sweet deal, and I often find myself thinking that I, too, would like to cash in and retire — if a bit ahead of schedule.
I imagine that my first couple weeks of retirement would be a blissful honeymoon period; slow, sleepy mornings eating buttered toast and drinking warm tea next to my cats. I’d spare no thought for a panic-inducing morning alarm, except to gloat occasionally to my friends — who would still be living their lives in accordance with SHS’s bell schedule.
Then, I think I’d take some time to decompress from the stress of the past 17 years of freeloading off my parents. I’d enjoy lots of afternoon naps, and I’d catch up on all the Netflix shows I’ve been putting off watching for until I had more free time. I might even subscribe to HBO or Disney+ and really commit to the whole watching-TV shtick.
Still, I know I’d get bored after about a week of bed-rotting, so by Week 2, I’d start being at least a little productive. Everything in balance, right?
That half-made quilt that has been collecting dust beneath my bed since 2023 would become a plush blanket before the rainy season ends, and each recipe I’ve had saved on Pinterest for years would become another addition to my overflowing fridge.
And, armed with my newly secured driver’s license, I would explore all the hidden (and not so hidden but usually blocked by traffic) destinations our slice of California has to offer. From walking across the Golden Gate Bridge (I’ve never actually bothered) to determining the prettiest hidden beach, I’d learn more about the Bay Area within my first couple months of retirement than I’ve found in my past six years of living here.
Of course, I would be missing out on a couple key milestones in my life: the hair loss that accompanies college application season, the hair loss that accompanies college decision season and the hair loss that accompanies actually going to college. But taking an extra 10 minutes while washing my hair 30 years down the line is, in my humble opinion, a worthy sacrifice for the liberation of an early retirement.
But, even as I am writing this, I know this fantasy is just that — a dream.
In this dream, though, I am still 17, still naive to the vast wonders this world has to offer. The only difference is that as a retiree, I would be free to explore them.
