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A Day in the Life of a Retired, Car‑Free, Cat‑Ruled Creator

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The Big Change: Goodbye, Car

Some people downsize their homes when they retire. I downsized my driving.

After three years and a whopping 5,000 miles, I realized my car was basically a very expensive lawn ornament. Once the daily commute vanished, my driving shrank to quick errands and the occasional entertainment day trip. So I let it go. Honestly, that’s probably the biggest shift in my life lately — and surprisingly, I don’t miss it.

Sleepy person in a robe holding a coffee cup with messy hair, sitting in a chair under bold text reading “Monday 5:30 am.The Weekend Mystery

Here’s the funny part: Even without a job, I still prefer weekends.

My routines don’t change. The schedule stays the same. Responsibilities remain exactly where I left them. And yet… Sunday night still ties my stomach in a knot like I’m about to face a pop quiz on Monday morning. Apparently, some habits survive retirement.

The IRS Incident (A.K.A. The Heart Attack That Wasn’t)

Let’s talk about the day I nearly met my maker.

I use USPS Informed Delivery — a free service that emails you a preview of your mail. Usually helpful. Occasionally horrifying.

At 8 AM, I opened my Daily Digest and saw it: A letter from the IRS.

The IRS! What could they possibly want? My taxes were filed. My refund was received. I hadn’t robbed Fort Knox or started a secret offshore casino. And yet there it was… a government envelope with my name on it.

The mail wouldn’t arrive until 1 or 2 PM, which meant I had five hours to imagine every worst‑case scenario known to mankind. I paced around the room, fretting over every possibility. At one point I even started mentally drafting my own obituary.

By the time the mail truck finally rolled up, I was a wreck. With shaking hands, I tore open the envelope and discovered…

A solicitation.  No audit. No penalty. And absolutely no summons lurking inside. Just a cheerful little note informing me I was eligible for a government match of up to $1,000 if I opened an IRA.

If I had extra money, I’d still have a car — so into the circular file it went. My hands needed a few minutes to stop vibrating.

Morning: Powered by Cats and CoffeeTwo cats sitting on a light-colored carpet near a window, one orange and one black, relaxing beside a cat tree in a cozy indoor space.

But let’s rewind. Before IRS‑induced panic attacks, my day starts with my furry alarm clocks.

Retired people supposedly need a reason to get up in the morning. I have two: Banner and Balboa, who demand breakfast no later than 6 AM. One of them will wake me — gently if I’m lucky, aggressively if I’m not.

They eat. They go back to bed. I log onto the computer and begin my morning ritual.

Step 1: Facebook Patrol

  • Visit my personal page
  • Vote for Joe in the Best of Florida contest
  • Check notifications
  • Make sure the internet hasn’t imploded overnight

Step 2: Creator Duties

I run two pages:

  • Dusty Roads Photos
  • Sights and Scenes of an Everyday Person

I check for:

  • Posts that need to be made
  • Tasks Facebook wants me to complete for “maximum exposure”
  • Anything that belongs on my daily task list

Step 3: Blog Headquarters

Over to AroundDustyRoads.com:

  • Add writing tasks
  • Plan WMEO mayhem
  • Make notes for future posts

Tipped-over laundry basket with colorful clothes spilling out beside two detergent bottles on a white surface.Step 4: Adulting

  • Check all four email accounts
  • Check both bank accounts (because forgetting to log something is my superpower)
  • Check my calendar: doctors, dentists, lawyers, Indian chiefs — whoever wants a piece of me today
  • Check chore schedules: laundry, cleaning, errands

By the time I finish all that, it’s practically lunchtime.

Midday: The Domestic Intermission

I take a break from screen time to:Black cat standing near a sliding glass door looking outside while an orange cat walks across the carpet toward the door in natural light.

  • Clean the kitty litter
  • Bag the trash
  • Hand out kitty treats
  • Make breakfast
  • Shower

Then it’s back to work — creator work, that is.

Afternoon: The Job I Love (Even If It Doesn’t Pay)

Person sitting at a round wooden table using a laptop, with a notebook and small items nearby in a cozy indoor workspace.I tackle my task list:

  • Post photos
  • Write blog entries
  • Manage pages
  • Keep the creator machine humming

Believe it or not, this fills the entire day. Retirement isn’t lounging on a beach — it’s running a one‑woman media empire with two feline interns.

Evening: The Cozy Shift

By evening, I’m ready to unwind:Cover of the book “Fury in Death” by J.D. Robb featuring swirling fiery orange and yellow designs over a dark background with a city skyline silhouette.

  • A book
  • The TV
  • Balboa curled in my lap
  • Banner stretched at my feet like a fluffy orange dog

People ask me all the time: “Aren’t you bored? What do you do all day?”

The answer is simple: No, I’m not bored. I’m busy. My blog and creator pages are my job…

Some people think retirement means I’m available 24/7, just sitting around eating bon bons and waiting for their call. Let me assure you: the only ones who get that kind of access are my cats — and even they have to wait until I finish my morning checklist.

I may not get paid, but the satisfaction is priceless. My paycheck comes in the form of joy, creativity, and that little spark of accomplishment when I finish a post or a project. I work for myself now — and let me tell you, I’m the strictest boss I’ve ever had.

 And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.