Barefoot and lazy…Easy life…No shoes…

A newlywed couple, we’re dining with tonight took this photo of us.

With the exception of an occasional sick day, I’ve hardly ever had a lazy day. Except for now. 

I have no house to clean (maid service is included). I have no dishwasher to unload (no dishwasher except Tom).  There is no pile of laundry awaiting my attention as a result of no washer or dryer (laundry service, wash, dry, fold will cost us about $50 a month). 

There’s no way we can use this Hobey Cat with our bad shoulders.

Wearing our bathing suits all day, I don’t even have “what to wear” planning until the two nights we’ve decided we’ll go out to dinner, Tuesdays and Saturdays, both buffets (no doggie bags).

Our days now consist of changing the roll of toilet paper as needed, whipping up a mere five easy meals a week, making a pot of coffee in the mornings, tea in the afternoons.  No more multi-store grocery shopping, coupons to cut, trips to Walgreen’s, or stops at the post office. 

No more stops for gas on 10 degree days, hands freezing holding the nozzle.  No more car washes, oil changes, or auto insurance cards to put into the glove box twice a year. No more car.

First time I’ve ever let Tom take a photo of me in a swimsuit. 

No more coffee with friends at Caribou or Starbucks.

No more walks to “Poop Park” with the neighbor’s dogs or our own.  Our precious Worldwide Willie died almost two years ago, prompting me to write my first blog, from his perspective, for the remaining 17 days of his life.  (Feel free to read it, hankie handy, if you’ve ever lost a dog). 

“Are we bored,” you ask? 

“No, not at all,” we both say in unison. “Will we get bored?”

“No, not at all.”

After a lifetime of continually running around like a “whirling dervish” (whatever that is), I’m done “trying to do it all.” Tom is done trying to recover from 12-hour workdays, feeling exhausted on his days off, feeling unmotivated other than to do the mundane tasks of home maintenance which he completed faithfully without being asked twice, which he finished with aplomb.

We were happy in that life. Now, we’re happy in this life. But,  it’s coupled with a profound sense of freedom that is hard to describe.  No end-of-vacation blues, no piled up mail to anticipate, no Mondays, back to work.

With nothing to worry about in this simple existence, only occasionally interrupted by a move to a new location, we can focus on the little things; what and when to eat, where and when to explore, with whom to engage in conversation as strangers mull around during our one-hour daily visit to the pool. “Shall we go in the water or shall I continue sitting in the lawn chair reading my online book on my phone?”

Sitting in the lounge chairs on our veranda, we’re contemplating going inside soon to shower and get ready for dinner out tonight at Habaneros with a lovely newlywed couple we met outside, Pam and Jerry.  We’ll all take the short walk down and across the road, dine outside on the water’s edge, the no-see-ums armed and ready for fresh meat, mostly mine. I’m getting used to the sting, the itch, and the three nights of scratching using my newly toughened heels on my legs during the night. 

The bottoms of my feet are toughening-up after being barefoot all day;  walking to the pool, strolling along the beach, stopping at the office with questions (no phones in the villas here). 

Our sweet Belizean maid Gloria mentioned as I was picking flowers this morning, “Miss Yessica  (that’s how they say my name), “You finally get into the Belizean way, easy life, no shoes.”

“Yes, Gloria,” I responded, as the smell of the fresh bouquet wafted into my senses.   “Easy life, no shoes.”

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