You know you're retired when honey-do list is a spreadsheet

YAKIMA, Wash. -- Retirement has nothing to do with a sunny frame of mind. It does, though, have everything to do with "honey do" lists.

When I retired from the Yakima Herald-Republic last month after 27 years, I had no idea what to expect. But my wife Leslie certainly did. I had made a strategic mistake of earlier putting off projects around the house with the offhand comment: "Oh, I'll take care of that after I retire."

So when I started receiving Social Security benefits, Leslie reminded me about what I had promised. How about painting the garden shed, she asked. And what about the kitchen sink? It's still leaking, she noted dryly.

Put it down on paper, I replied. I handed her a yellow legal pad and went back to the computer to update my fantasy football team.

But Leslie didn't start writing. Instead she flipped open her laptop computer and began typing away. In 15 minutes the printer belched out a sheet of paper.

Out came a neatly lined sheet with columns and rows. Leslie had done the unthinkable. She committed the "honey do" list to a Microsoft Excel spreadsheet.

Under the heading of "action" items, she listed nearly 30 projects, including putting new grout in the shower and placing more paving stones in the garden. At the end of each row she noted the "status." In the event I actually finished one of the chores, she would then type in "Done."

I noticed at the very bottom of the spreadsheet the initials "SB." I asked what that meant.

"Starbucks," she replied. "I want an espresso." Then she paused for dramatic effect.

"Now."

At a recent fundraising event, I told several husbands about Leslie's Excel spreadsheet. One of the husbands had a horrified look on his face. No doubt he was guilty of failing to fix a towel rack in the master bathroom for the past two years.

"Whatever you do," he said, "don't ever introduce your wife to mine."

The real problem with retirement is you never get a day off.

It can also be bad for your health. That's why having a ready supply of antibiotics is sometimes more important than enjoying a robust 401(k).

That's what I needed following a recent eye infection. It wasn't pretty. My left eyelid looked like it was sprouting a Red Delicious apple. I could barely see out of it. What's happening here? I barely begin to reap the joys of retirement and I can't even see to play golf.

Actually just reaching retirement can be a life-and-death struggle. I found that out a few days before my farewell party last month. I was heading to the newspaper office in downtown Yakima as usual, turning off of Summitview Avenue and onto a short side street leading to Martin Luther King Boulevard. I had driven that piece of pavement for nearly three decades without mishap.

But that morning was decidedly different. A speeding motorist was approaching on my right from another street. He had a stop sign; I didn't. But did that matter? He blew right through the stop sign and was on a collision course with my retirement plans. I hit the brakes, muttered a curse under my breath and waited for the inevitable sound of metal hitting metal.

But a miracle intervened. I had swerved to the left at the last second and escaped being hauled off to the hospital by a mere two inches.

Still, joining the 53.5 million other Americans receiving Social Security benefits does have its perks. A Tuesday matinee movie is one of them. No one is there. It's like having a private screening -- with fresh popcorn.

Then there are the midweek trips you can take without the hassle of packed hotels and crowded tourist attractions. We returned recently from a five-day trek to the Oregon coast. It was a pleasant change of scenery, though Leslie failed to consider what it would mean to her sleep patterns.

"What's that racket outside," she asked, awakening me in the early morning hours of our first day.

It's the ocean, I explained. Our hotel room in Lincoln City was only a few hundreds yards from the rolling surf of the Pacific Ocean.

"Could you tell it to shut up," came her crisp reply.

I decided not to ask if this was going to be added to my spreadsheet. Why invite more trouble into my life?

When we returned home, I got another Excel update. I actually got around to fixing the leak in the kitchen sink, so that got marked as "Done." But what's this at the bottom of the page?

Good grief, the letters SB were back again, now in boldface print.

So back I headed to Starbucks for another espresso. This time, though, I ordered it on the rocks -- just like my retirement.

* Spencer Hatton, who continues to write a column for the Yakima Herald-Republic, is now retired and lives on
Easy Street.