Living in the comfort of denial

Recently I was looking at my bucket list that I had made when I retired from the daily grind of the workforce. You know, the list that contains in a numbered sequence all the wants and desires held back from accomplishing during the productive younger years when a job, raising a family and just living life were the order of the day. A series of desires waiting to be completed at some future date. The future is now.

The first one is to climb the CN tower. What was I thinking when I wrote that down? I’m sure it must of been in a moment of insanity, just climbing the stairs quickly at home makes me feel fatigued. Number two is to get dressed up with my friends in a Rolling Stone type of tableau out in the country enjoying a picnic with white starched tablecloths, wine and decadent desserts. This would entail a huge amount of organizing, so perhaps not. Having taken it upon myself a few years ago to learn to play Stairway to Heaven on the piano the third on the list can be crossed off. I am not the least bit musical and after memorizing the piece which took me about 3 months of solid concentration I played it for a music teacher friend who felt it had been a total waste of my time. No more musical forays for me. I cross off Salsa lessons in Cuba and learning to play at least one song without singing on the ukulele in jam sessions at the pub on Sunday evenings. I had thought that would be a fun activity but I am shamed by my lack of musical ability. Hesitant even now to sing in the shower.

Six and seven will require more friends than I have at my fingertips. I’ll retire them from my list. Eight is definitely doable, to make a perfect pie. Shouldn’t be a problem, I’ll just keep trying. At least I will get to eat the less than perfect ones. That will be a delicious accomplishment.

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