Don't Buy the Green Bananas

Instant widowhood requires a new beginning – I decided a retirement village might be a good place to start. Found a studio apartment I could afford with 350 square feet. When I went back to measure it for furniture, it had shrunk. This is where I came face-to-face with the axiom "Less is More." Here is one solution: First you get the kids to remove their possessions from the basement or attic. Then you have a gigantic garage sale. After that you will find you didn’t need all that "stuff." Later when you find you let the cheese shredder go, you’ll have to admit you needed a better one anyway.

The usual reasons for moving to a retirement village are maintenance free living, basic transportation, security, and the opportunity for new friendships. Whether you are the richest or the poorest, all the advantages of the village are available to you.

There are so many rules to remember that a person could definitely suffer from "brain strain." Trash goes out Sunday and Wednesday nights, but not before 9:30 p.m., so the halls won’t be filled with trash all evening. Laundry goes out Monday evening – must be in a bag or pillowcase marked with your apartment number. Don’t know what happens if you deviate from any of these rules. I wouldn’t dare be noncompliant. Did discover that if all else fails, peek out in the hall (after 9:30 p.m., of course) to see what your neighbors have done.

A trip to Wal-Mart for a laundry bag and lock for storage made me feel like I was back in college, but as I was soon to find out, in many ways it is more like high school here.

Now about the keys – one for my apartment door, one for the outside door, one for the mailbox and one for storage. Despite the fact that I have two sets of these keys, I have managed to lock myself out two times now. My door, that wouldn’t stay shut if I opened the balcony door, locked itself shut while I was in the laundry room. Then security has to come and let you in. One of the biggest challenges if you come in after 9:00 p.m. is having to relock the front door. Turning the key is no big deal, but getting the door to shut tight is another matter. Old-old residents can do it without looking back. I just sneak away hoping no thieves or madmen come in during the night.

There is a smoke detector in every unit that is so sensitive, if you just pick up your cookbook it goes off with a continuous alarm that sounds like an old school bell with a bad cold. Yes, you already guessed this didn’t you – I have set this off, too. Security has to respond and they feel obligated to instruct you in fire safety. You know you’ve been a total pain when security knows your first name or they make a momentary slip and say, "Oh, it’s you again." Another resident I met in my first trip to the laundry room told me never to worry about the fire alarm because people were always burning toast or letting boiled eggs burn up. He said if there is a real fire, they’ll knock on your door. Well, I certainly hope so. I’d hate to meet my maker because somebody wandered off while preparing breakfast.

Two different "new resident" representatives showed up. The first one brought a tote bag, mug and soups. I was relieved that they didn’t include a sample of Metamucil or Depends. On the other hand, that might have been appropriate. You never know when the need might arise. The second representative gave me several sheets listing 195 activities available to all residents. It’s up to you – you can participate all day every day or you can stay alone in your apartment and be an undisturbed recluse.

Since I am not a lone wolf, there’s a lot more to come about the retirement lifestyle.