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Dan Fisher

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Posted Friday, Feb. 9, 2001, at 11:30 PM ET

I think I must be getting more relaxed.

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I hesitate to make that a more definitive statement because I've only been doing this retirement thing for a week now. And that includes last weekend, which really shouldn't count.

But I do have some circumstantial evidence. Today, for example, my mother and I finished a Friday New York Times crossword puzzle together, and I didn't spend the whole time with a knot in my stomach. Let me explain.

My mother loves crossword puzzles and used to work them endlessly by herself. But her vision has deteriorated badly, so now we work them together. I read the clues aloud and any of the letters we've already got, and we work as a team from there. I had a Times subscription through my job and would occasionally bring along a stack of puzzles when I visited her. But like most newspapers, the Times' puzzles get harder as the week progresses. And, patience not being one of my virtues, I always favored the Monday through Wednesday puzzles. No knots. Maybe a Thursday now and then, but almost never a Friday. Too hard! Too frustrating! Too many knots! This never was a problem for my mother. Only for me.

Today, all that was left in inventory were two Friday puzzles—one we had started several weeks ago only to give up. We took on the other one—it was from the Times of Friday, Feb. 18, 2000, to give you an idea of how long I've been trying to avoid this one. But we did it—finally figuring out that "Store, as for bookkeeping" is REPOSIT rather than DEPOSIT. And no knots! I can only ascribe that to being more relaxed.

More circumstantial evidence: I had a thoroughly enjoyable, two-hour lunch with my friend Chris. I don't do two-hour lunches. Even that great lunch I had with my wife, Candyce, on Monday lasted a lot less than two hours—we only had about an hour on the parking meter. Heck, I don't do two-hour dinners in any but the most extreme conditions.

I'm really reluctant to mention another piece of circumstantial evidence here. It may come back to haunt me. But I think I'm actually driving less aggressively. (The sound you just heard was Candyce scoffing.) I actually stayed in the far right hand lane of the freeway almost the entire way from the restaurant where Chris and I had lunch to my mother's place. And I kept at least a couple of car lengths behind the driver ahead of me pretty much the whole way. I recall something that one of the most serene men I've ever known once said. Chuck used to drive from Orange County to downtown Los Angeles and back every day—one of the ugliest commutes you can imagine. "How do you handle it?" an exasperated, younger friend once asked. "Well," Chuck replied calmly, "I'm only responsible for one car."

"OK," I can hear the skeptics saying. "If you're so damn unflappable all of a sudden, what happened yesterday?"

I admit that I flapped yesterday what with all my computer problems. But I'm writing that off as justifiable. And as witnesses, I want to call on Karl Pedersen, dhardy, and CBart, all of whom were very supportive in their comments on "The Fray." Thanks guys and/or gals. I also got support from Chris over lunch. He had read the "Diary" and, as a self-described whiz with a Palm handheld, offered his assistance.

The only slightly sour note here—and I'm sure it was offered in jest—came from a Microsoft colleague who suggested that after reading that Diary, Bill Gates might reclaim the five-year clock I got as a service award on my way out the door.

Just for the record, I'm not going to give up on technology. I'm still determined to learn a lot more—the potential benefits are just too great to do otherwise. I've already been looking at new computers, which I'm hoping will solve some of the problems I'm having with my four-year-old model.

My other resolution after the experience of writing these Slate Diaries is to keep a journal. I'm not sure if any of the incidents and insights of the last week have any lasting value or meaning. But I do know that I've spent too much of my life so intent on the next adventure that I failed to really absorb the current one. Retirement is too important a milestone to let that happen again. And keeping a journal—a diary—is proving the kind of tool that I'm sure will help.