This week's weirdness was going in to the Zillian office to pack up my stuff and an ex-employee's stuff. I went on my scooter -- haven't taken public transit in four months now -- and a security guy walked me to the desk area and watched me pack. The place was sparkling clean, because apparently the cleaning staff is still on duty and bored as hell. So I got all the stuff for both of us, bungee-corded most of it to the scooter, walked to the nearest post office where I boxed up and mailed the ex-Zillianaire's stuff (and sent my foam roller to my friend), and then scooted all the way home with just my stuff. Still heavier than ideal. I guess at some point it seemed smart to have a toolkit at the office? All I really wanted at this point was my framed certificate that marks me as a 10-year veteran and has my start date on it. I'll give away the toolkit tomorrow.
I had extra time at work this week due to a "no meeting week", and caught all up on reviewing documents despite the above (and taking mid-day breaks to play Outer Wilds). Then Saturday I drove a Zipcar down to see![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
norwoodbridge, which freaked me out a lot less this time, now that surface transmission is not seen as so much of a thing for coronavirus. I wore gloves but didn't worry about wiping things down. Seeing him was nice (Outer Wilds, Black Mirror, Snakebird, sex and a lobster roll) and now I won't see him again for 3 weeks due to the stupid virus... his kids are returning from a road trip to one of the high-risk states, and they have to quarantine so he's joining them.
Press handstands are the real-life puzzle I can't solve. Judging by last week (active pike/straddle class, press handstand class) an even better pike would continue to help a lot.
I listened to this really interesting podcast on ways to sanely adjust spending after you retire early. It had some reassuring numbers! Intriguingly, you know how a 4% withdrawal rate is generally considered a "safe" plan for a 30-year retirement? They re-ran all the numbers for 50 years and the safe rate (by the same method) is 3.5%. This is beyond awesome for me -- I've been running my calculations on a staggeringly conservative 3% for years, and I'm above all my targets. Their math says I could actually retire early, I mean earlier than planned. But everything is so wack, and I'm still earning so much, and WFH is so chill, that a couple more years still sounds like a decent Plan A.
I feel tiny and curled-up, like my cat who loves to sleep in a cardboard box in the kitchen. Life is small.
I had extra time at work this week due to a "no meeting week", and caught all up on reviewing documents despite the above (and taking mid-day breaks to play Outer Wilds). Then Saturday I drove a Zipcar down to see
norwoodbridge, which freaked me out a lot less this time, now that surface transmission is not seen as so much of a thing for coronavirus. I wore gloves but didn't worry about wiping things down. Seeing him was nice (Outer Wilds, Black Mirror, Snakebird, sex and a lobster roll) and now I won't see him again for 3 weeks due to the stupid virus... his kids are returning from a road trip to one of the high-risk states, and they have to quarantine so he's joining them. Press handstands are the real-life puzzle I can't solve. Judging by last week (active pike/straddle class, press handstand class) an even better pike would continue to help a lot.
I listened to this really interesting podcast on ways to sanely adjust spending after you retire early. It had some reassuring numbers! Intriguingly, you know how a 4% withdrawal rate is generally considered a "safe" plan for a 30-year retirement? They re-ran all the numbers for 50 years and the safe rate (by the same method) is 3.5%. This is beyond awesome for me -- I've been running my calculations on a staggeringly conservative 3% for years, and I'm above all my targets. Their math says I could actually retire early, I mean earlier than planned. But everything is so wack, and I'm still earning so much, and WFH is so chill, that a couple more years still sounds like a decent Plan A.
I feel tiny and curled-up, like my cat who loves to sleep in a cardboard box in the kitchen. Life is small.
