This is a demo of the new Commode Comfort Snap Seat Adapter I have developed for home and institutional use. Bedside commodes can be convenient and very useful for folks who have mobility issues and can’t quickly or easily get to the toilet. They are widespread in skilled nursing facilities, hospitals, rehabs, and homes where a household member is incapacitated. There’s only one problem (well, two, actually) – that flimsy narrow plastic seat, and the even flimsier lid! My Commode Comfort Snap Seat Adapter fixes that, making it possible for anyone to attach a standard, sturdy toilet seat to a standard bedside commode frame. Commodes are typically built to hold 350 pounds – they can easily hold a regular toilet seat, too.
A lot of us have lost, and lost big.
When we lose the ones we love, we actually lose parts of ourselves. Or rather, we lose access to those parts.
I feel like this isn’t discussed nearly enough.
So yeah… I’m all about my work. Always have been. Always will be, most likely. While people in my age group – early-early GenX – are starting to retire (or maybe they’ve been retired for a while, due to excellent financial planning and execution on their plans… not necessarily my forte, tbh), the idea of retiring seems like a distant vision… a chimera… a mirage-like image off in the distance, shimmering in the heat of a cloudless day.
Every now and then, I’ll think about retiring, think about what I’d like to do, once I’ve turned in my laptop and badge. I’ll imagine myself rising at a leisurely hour, sipping a cup of fine coffee on the veranda overlooking a Tuscan vineyard (or the back of somebody’s condo)… I’ll see myself paging through a newspaper… or maybe swiping up on my tablet, as I catch up with what’s going on in the world. Maybe I’ll paint. I’ve been known to do that. Maybe I’ll learn a foreign language. Maybe I’ll do one of those things I always say I’ll do, when I have more time (like master small engine repair).
But it never takes long for me to circle back to the simple fact I really have no interest in ever retiring. Because every “fun” thing I think about doing, actually takes work. It takes discipline. I takes concentration and time. It requires a certain mastery to do it right. And that mastery requires work. Plain and simple, work.
And you know what? If I’m gonna work at something, I better damn’ well get paid. That’s what I say.
But what about retirement? Don’t I want to be rewarded for all my years of dedication with discretionary time to do as i please? Well, sure… but if I’m going to do as I please, I’m actually going to work. Because, for me, work is fun. It’s not this awful drudge thing that I have to do … or else. It’s a chance for me to direct my ample (actually, overly abundant) energy in a productive and non-self-destructive way. I have a lot of energy, you see. Hell, even when I’m exhausted, I have a shit-ton of energy. Ask anybody who knows me. And I probably will, for years to come.
So, yeah. I’ll work. The retirement communities will need to wait for me. No, don’t wait – I may never turn up. And I will have fun. Because that’s what I do.
It’s just what I do.