When I was younger, I had these ridiculous notions that, after I turned 50, I would be able to sit back and begin to enjoy the fruits of all of my hard labor. So much for those foolish thoughts. I'm not sure where I made the wrong turn but I find myself working harder than ever now. If I'm not spending long hours frantically running on the treadmill called work, I’m spend time and money tending to this one's needs and that one's needs. If I'm not rushing to write code and reports to meet an impossible deadline, I'm spending hours racking my brain to come up with creative ways to put links like http://www.supplementcritic.com and keywords dealing with weight pills and body lotion into posts to get a few dollars to pay the bills. The important areas in my life, like eating and sleeping, have somehow become secondary. I get to them as I can and sometimes ending up making do with the condition that they come in.
Let's face it. I am becoming what I had hoped I’d never to be – a curmudgeon. Any moment now, I'm going to step on my Internet porch and start shouting, "Hey you kids! Get off my blog!" I think I have a good idea now of why Henry Thoreau moved out into the middle of tiny log cable in the woods by himself.
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