We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Fifties are first best, sixties second best decade. I'm 65 and that seems true. Some things get better - we adopted in teenagers after our own were almost grown and the last of the five has reached successful adulthood and moved out; some things get worse - a few aches, a few scares medically.
I get a good night's sleep. I am not obligated to drive about 30-40% of the days and can drink a little more. I can make my own schedule, within the day, within the week. I work some and they are grateful to see me there. I have time for walks of longer than an hour if I like. I'm almost finished fixing the things around the house I've neglected all these years.
Assistant Village Idiot
40 is the new 30, 50 is the new 40, 60 is the new 50. I guess that eventually death is the new life.