Somewhere, in one of the boxes that that lurk in a closet of Chateau Thompson, lies a brochure from an investment firm promoting the “joys and relaxation” of retirement.

If I had the energy I’d find that brochure and burn it.

At some point, in 2004, I remember saying we moved to Floyd County to “relax and retire.”

I’m sure I said it.

At least I think I did.

My “to do” list Thursday contained 14 items. I got to five of them before collapsing on the couch and sleeping for the next seven hours.

Amy laughs as I wonder where the retirement went. She’s not surprised.

“You’re not big on relaxation,” she says.

She’s right.

The problem, of course, stems from a singular inability to say “no.”

Somebody asks if I can do something and I say “sure, why not?” I should say “no way!”

Then something happens to throw me behind – way behind. A week lost because of the flu. Two days when Loki’s fragile heath failed and we had to take him to Virginia Tech and put him to sleep. A 10-hour board of supervisors meeting that should have been over in four.

I’ve never been good at time management. Time is a journalist’s enemy. We race against it and, all too often, lose.

Time, they say, flies when you’re having fun.

Actually, time flies, no matter what your state of mind.

And you’re always racing to make the flight.