As you know, the end of January 2011 marks the start of my entry into full retirement. I found myself initially vacilating on the issue, much like when starting a part-time home business over a decade ago. That feeling is ebbing.

On my kitchen table is the last official load of knives that need to be delivered to the client. It has been hard to move around in Wisconsin over the past week. We've had frozen conditions and mini-blizzard. I've never seen so many car accidents where the vehicle is flipped over onto its roof. For that reason alone it's hard for the client to arrive here.

But over that week I've had to move, and then move again, that pile of knives to enjoy the morning latte' and the newspaper. I've found myself a tad bitter, and saying, "Why doesn't this guy show up so we can get this over with..." And as his custom, he's going to want some last minute sharpening. I did think this state-of-mind was due to a minor cold I have. I feel run-down and slow to get to the gym. I know this makes me cranky.

But in looking around the house I see knife catalogs, sharpening tools, a breakfast nook piled with stone fixtures and a coffee table that never gets completely cleared of ordering materials. I'm beginning to view this as "clutter" and not the valuable items of my own business. In short, I feel like a recalcitrant child who dreams of playing hookie.

The final straw came two days ago. In this pile of knives was some very primo folders and I wanted one. The client in question likes a "spare" to keep pretty while he carries the other. Since the transaction is unfinished, I took the spare as my own--knowing that this is limited model already sold out. And like a child, I sharpened it to my specifications and used it at a restaurant. I admit that I "soiled" it in a deliberate attempt to make it a used and unwanted item.

Yesterday my wife (as my bookkeeper) went to our tax guy and submitted our final business tax form. She has already paid our sales tax, officially ending the business. I feel absolutely nothing but relief. I owe a bit of money on the mods done to the Sportster, and I will once again officially become a "biker." In truth, I have probably been 100% dedicated to the lifestyle for over a year, and just didn't want to admit it.

Sorry for the tale of woe, guys. But I just needed to make the idea a formal statement of position. I'm ready to enjoy the next phase of my life.

Congrats to you! Hopefully you have a full sack of something green and maybe a little Jack to make lunchtimes easy until the springtime rolls around...

Enjoy yourself man, nobody's gonna do it for you huh?? lol...

On paper you are absolutely correct. If anything, I should be looking forward to a new career in pro bono work or as a mentor. And as a boy when an adult reached 60 years of age he looked "elderly." Yesterday I was on The Gaunlet for +110 minutes and burned up 2550 calories. Most guys in their 20s can go 12 to 20 minutes--maybe.

I have enough health and disposable income to pick any positive path and make it happen. I just don't want to. I feel lax, lazy and entitled to make others carry my load in this new society.

I spoke to a friend in Wyoming a few days ago, a retired career army officer and retired LEO. He has worked for several years now using that experience to become a court appointed victims' advocate. Even he submitted his resignation recently. He had the same tone in his voice that I do.

Do you think we have given up too soon?

I'll tell you what, if I get to where you are I'm gonna relax enough to piss off EVERYONE I KNOW!!!! LOL!

About three hours ago my client came and got his knives--and a sharpening--paid his bill in full and then I took my wife out to dinner. It's over. I am officially retired.

I handed over the wad of Benjamins to my wife as we pulled away, and I asked her if she's going to miss the wonderful world of cutlery. She counted the ching, folded it for her purse, and said, "Well, I will miss the paydays, but there's nothing that says you have to quit selling to this guy..."

Ahhh, that's why I love her. The UPS boxes always smelled like "money" to her. Oh well, maybe just a few nice Japanese laminates out the back door...