Unplugging for A Trip

My husband and I are headed to India again next week, so this will be my last post before a hiatus of a month or more. I’m looking forward to the trip, but as with any protracted time away from home, there are considerable preparations involved. I can remember the days when the main question someone asked on the way to the airport was: “Did we unplug the iron?” These days, “unplugging” has a different meaning.

I’ll have infrequent access to the Internet, so I want to limit messages coming in to my email. To accomplish this, I’ll need to de-activate my electronic and social media contacts. Since Facebook sends me a message whenever a close friend posts something, everyone will now be coded as an acquaintance. I’ll contact those who email me directly with any frequency, asking them to remove me from their lists for a while.

Another important detail is medication. I just counted my blood pressure pills and I have enough to last until we get back. That’s a good thing, because my insurance won’t pay for an early refill.

Tomorrow I’ll take care of some of the more mundane preparations, like laundry and ironing. Once they’re washed, I’ll sequester my husband’s new underwear so they stay clean for the trip. He refuses to give up his old T-shirts. They’re full of holes, but he loves how soft they are. I’ll hide those somewhere before we start packing.

Monday, I’ll pay all the bills that will come due while we’re away. I’ll also have my final sax lesson before the trip. Tuesday we’ll head up to Providence for the day. I’ll get a haircut and Jagdish will finalize loose ends at the store. We want to get home to watch the Democratic debate on CNN. It’s a good thing it’s not like the Republican ones, with an undercard that starts early, or we’d never make it on time.

Wednesday is reserved for packing, since we’re leaving early Thursday morning. We usually head out with two large, empty suitcases that we bring back filled with goods for Jagdish’s store. This trip, two relatives have asked us to transport a suitcase for each of them, so we’ll probably nest those inside the larger ones, like Russian dolls.

It’s often a challenge to figure out how to cushion things, since we always bring some gifts and various items that family members can’t find in India. This trip, it’s Lysol Crisp Linen Air Freshener, Neutrogena Acne Wash and a few other personal articles.

Still to be scheduled: repositioning potted plants to areas that the lawn sprinkler can reach, coloring my gray roots (after my haircut, so I don’t waste the dye), bringing in the flag, and submitting written material that has deadlines while we’re away. That would be my monthly column in Rhode Island’s Prime Time and a bi-monthly news item in the Brown Alumni Magazine for my college class.

The iCal on my computer is filled with reminders of what needs to be done over the next few days before we leave, since I rely on it for everything in my life that’s important. Oh, who am I kidding. I rely on it for everything. Period.

I’ve been systematically removing the alarms for all the birthdays and anniversaries that will come up over the next three weeks. That includes my brother and his wife’s 24^th anniversary, which is the same day as Jagdish’s and my 25^th. It occurs to me that it would be great to send them a postcard from Agra. That prompts me to add another to-do for next week: print out address labels for those we’ve promised to send cards to.

As I deactivated all those reminders and prepared to re-classify my Facebook contacts, I had an awakening of sorts. There’s something empowering about cutting the electronic umbilical cord. Virtually all my communications for three weeks will be face-to-face and not electronic, just like in the “old days.” Who knows. I may enjoy it so much that I won’t bother to plug back in when I come home.

If you don’t hear from me by Thanksgiving, Happy Holidays!

Paths To the Cranky Side

Three years ago, inspired by a Direct TV ad, I blogged on the “Chain of Consequences.” Walmart has a new commercial for Star Wars swag that echoes this in describing a chain that leads to “the dark side.” A grandfather, in his bathrobe, is sitting on the porch with his grandson, who is playing with Star Wars toys. Gramps explains that Jedi are old men who like to be comfortable, so they wear loose fitting robes.

“Tight fitting clothing leads to chafing. Chafing leads to anger. And well, anger is the path to the dark side.” Brilliant copy writing, delivered impeccably, and an inspiration to do a retirement blog on more paths to the dark side. Or, as I prefer to describe it: The Cranky Side.

One thing I’ve learned as a recent retiree is that condo communities can get more bogged down in meetings than Park Avenue corporations do. Meetings with six or more women lead to stress. Stress leads to migraines, and migraines are a sure sign you’re headed to the Cranky Side. I now avoid meetings where I can’t count the attendees on one hand.

My friends know that I’ve never claimed to be a happy homemaker. Cleaning house leads to lots of dust in the air. Dust leads to post nasal drip and post nasal drip leads to bronchitis. Bronchitis is usually a stop on the road to Cranky. So I clean house just twice a year, or whenever we have company, whichever comes first.

I do not suffer fools gladly. The older I get, the less patience I have. Being retired enables me to be a lot pickier about those with whom I spend my time. Brainless comments by those around me lead to sarcasm on my part. Sarcasm leads to never being invited again. Never being invited leads to alienation and alienation can actually be a path away from Crankyville for me.

Eating out with friends can involve going to restaurants that serve mostly fried food. For those of us who generally avoid fried food, eating it leads to heartburn. Heartburn leads to a sleepless night and sleep deprivation lands you at the front gate of the Cranky Side. Maybe that’s why my husband and I rarely go out with friends.

Fashion magazines feature clothing I can’t afford on models with bodies I’ve never had, neither of which can I aspire to, especially in retirement. Flipping through those periodicals leads to envy. Envy is a direct route to Cranky. I wish my husband would stop getting those publications for inspiration for his store. He’s so used to living with Ms. Crankypants that he doesn’t realize they make my condition worse.

Retirees are especially prone to trying the pricey food samples that markets give out on certain days of the week. Some of us shop on sampling days just to get the freebies. Others try to be disciplined about eating between meals, but we can’t avoid inhaling the aromas. Inhaling leads to sampling, and sampling leads to buying. Buying leads to feeling guilty about blowing the grocery budget. And guilt, well, guilt is the superhighway to the Cranky Side.

Wearing magnifying glasses in front of the mirror highlights all the flaws on ones face. Seeing the flaws leads to plucking and tweezing. Plucking and tweezing leads to cuts and blotches that are visible even without magnification.  And that leads to… you guessed it: Crankyville.

Finally, there’s the warnings and contraindications that come with the growing list of medications that retirees are often on. “Severe pain, vomiting, low blood sugar.” And also “headaches, nausea, diarrhea, and vomiting,” (mentioned twice, in case you missed it the first time). Now we’re hearing that many of our regular meds can lead to kidney problems. Reading about them will put you on the express bus to the Cranky Side, but skipping the pills is not an option.

It’s no wonder old men like to spend their days in bathrobes. And retired women spend their nights with a nice bottle of wine.