It’s 8:30am and I’m sitting at the table on the back porch with my laptop. I’m writing you things about my life just to torture you with endless lines of dribble. I only got dressed for the day a few moments ago. I am retired.

I’ve been focused on retirement for quite some time now. It’s hard not to. The times are a changing. In fact, I’ve noticed a lot of changes in the last three weeks. My truck doesn’t roll out of the driveway near as often. I see the sunrise in my PJs instead of through my windshield. I have three cups of coffee, not two.

I really didn’t know what to expect from this phase of my life. I am by no means fully immersed in this newfound freedom, but I am already beginning to be changed by it. The signs are clear.

I don’t know who invented the “Top Ten” list, but I’ve made one of my own. Making a list puts things in perspective. It gives order to obscurity. It consolidates my little universe into a manageable format.

So, in the spirit of David Letterman, here goes nothing. The top ten signs that retirement has changed my life.

Number 10: I no longer use an alarm clock.

No blaring radio. No synthesizer noises coming from my phone. I get up when I’m ready.

Among all the changes, this one is sweet music to my ears. I don’t have any place that I have to be at a set time. I am still an early riser, but my schedule has shifted about an hour forward. I’ve started staying up to 11:00 on some nights. My feet hit the floor by 6:30 most mornings. My mind and body appreciate the change.

Number 9: I don’t care how I dress or look or smell.

This, I’m sure, is a male thing. I wear the same jeans for days. Socks, the same. Sweaty t-shirt, yes. If my hair is greasy, I can wash it later. This is also a sign that I am single and have no one to impress.

A caveat to this is that when I do go out, I clean up. I’ve had to meet with Cory a couple of times over the last few weeks to handle some of the final business matters. Lawyer’s office. Courthouse. The last time he saw me, he hesitated as he looked me up and down.

“What?”

“You know,” he said, “every time I see you . . . you’re . . . so clean. Nice shirt. Clean jeans. No cap. You’re not even sweaty. What’s up with that?”

Number 8: I ride the golfcart to the mailbox.

I probably should walk and get the exercise, but the mail comes around noon and it’s hotter than blue blazes and it’s over a quarter mile to the mailbox. I live a ways off the road. I used to stop my truck at the end of the drive every day when I came home from work to check the mail. Not anymore.

Number 7: I forget to take my meds.

I have always been a creature of routine. I do certain things at certain times and in a certain order. Not going to work has completely disturbed that routine. I would make coffee and then set out my pills on the counter. Now I make coffee and stretch out my old bones for a few minutes while the pot fills up.

The only real prescription I take is for managing my blood pressure. The other 5 or 6 are supplements my Doc recommended.

“A man your age needs a little extra Zinc and Niacin and D3 and blah, blah, blah in his system.”

In fact, typing this reminds that I forgot to take my pills this morning. Be right back.

Number 6: I piddle a lot.

I have things to do. I spray weeds and do laundry. I fix broken things. I catch up on neglected chores. But a lot of times I just end up piddling.

One could say that to piddle is to do things that are a waste of time. I disagree. My own personal definition of piddling is to do simple things that are not urgent, but which are useful.

Like organizing the toolbox that I keep in the laundry room. Nothing fancy or complete. Just a few of the basic tools that a guy needs around the house. It keeps me from having to run out to the shop every time I need a screwdriver or a pair of pliers.

I spread the contents out on the kitchen counter. I tossed old sink washers and bent nails and a hardened tube of glue. I found some old pill bottles and filled them with screws and picture hangers and hooks. I whittled down my allen wrenches to one of each size. It took me about an hour, and I found it quite satisfying.

Number 5: I don’t care when I eat lunch.

Again, no schedule. I eat when I get hungry. It was 2:00 the other day when I realized I had not had lunch. I was caught up in a very important piddling project out in my shop.

Number 4: I don’t carry my phone with me every second of every day.

Since I was first issued a small hand-held device at Callaway Gardens back in the 90s, I have been tethered to a phone. I have been instantaneously available. I have lived at the beck and call of coworkers and customers who expect me to answer when they dial my number.

Lately, I can’t remember where I laid my phone down. If I want to use it, I have to look for it. I’m not trying to disconnect from the grid or hide from anyone. It’s just that my life now is less and less about that phone. I’m comfortable with letting it take messages that I can respond to later.

Leave me a message at the beep.

Number 3: I run errands any time of day I want.

I feel a little tinge of embarrassment when I show up at the hardware store at 10 in the morning. I used to go in there only after work, and usually for something that I hoped to have time to get to on Saturday. Now, if I need it, I just go get it.

Number 2: I really like the AC in the afternoons.

I have worked outside my whole life. Cory used to fuss at me for not running the AC at the farm office, but I was in and out so much, I didn’t see the point. To cool off and then have to go back outside made it all the more unbearable.

Now, I have a choice. I can work out and about until noon. Then I can come inside and piddle with a bunch of things that I never had the time to do before. The AC is my friend.

And the Number 1 sign that I am retired: I have no idea what stinking day it is.

And not knowing really doesn’t bother me at all.