About a year ago, I thought it would be interesting to compile a Bucket List. Yea, but nay, not a conventional one; CR2S would never stoop to doing anything commonplace. My “to do” selections would not include traveling to far off, exotic places; nor a close-by Costco or Marukai, for that matter.

Unfortunately, physical limitations would play a role. I mean, hey, I haven’t even ventured up to the fifth floor of KRH, so why would I think about a bungee jump or skydiving? An extended walk is a challenge, let alone stealing second base.

Why people go ape when sighting a celebrity is beyond my pale. Having been a journalist and restaurateur explains my indifference. Although I’ve never interviewed Tiger Woods or Kobe Bryant, I’ve sat with John McKay at Julie’s and introduced Japanese beer to Paul Newman. Hearing Willie Nelson sing “Star Dust” in Hollywood Bowl has intrigue, but it’s simpler listening to Frank Sinatra sing on my computer. A stargazer I’m not.

When I started scribbling down Bucket List possibilities, the listings turned out to be more things I didn’t want to do, rather than preferences. Although traveling was on the agenda before the wife’s passing, New England and Europe might as well be Timbuktu now. Can’t think of anything more enervating than viewing Babylon – alone  – holding a cane rather than a hand.

When I put the Bucket List into action in late 2011, I started slowly. Several overlooked lunch and dinner engagements with old acquaintances got things started. That’s when it became apparent being with friends was the simple bottom line; going places and doing things had no appeal, especially alone. So how now to occupy an aging but still inquiring mind? I am convinced Jack did not go up the hill with Jill to fetch a pail of water!

As is CR2S’s wont for unorthodox adventure, I hit upon the idea of listing things I should no longer have to worry about. You know, like having a whole slew of brand new (costly) razor blades when the shaving curtain falls; a Rolex when I haven’t worn a watch in 37 years. More to the point, I certainly won’t be buying a house, new or old; ditto a Jaguar. Now you get the drift?  Wimpy won’t be wearing a tux, anytime soon unless buried in one. Nor a new suit. I doubt if I’ll be in the market for another television set. Nor microwave oven. So my wish list has become a don’t-need inventory.

It’s getting so bad/oddball/weird, I find myself double-checking shopping lists these days: Maybe this will be the last package of baking soda I’ll ever need? Certainly won’t ever have to buy another toothbrush, pot, pan, plate or pepper. So there you go, now you know how I amuse myself these days. [Choosing a state mental institution next.]

=  *  =

So I went out and bought a bed, mattress, sofa and floor lamp!

Why? you ask. Why not is my answer. Not exactly scintillating, but neither am I.

A (good) mattress can run four figures; the foundation, box and headboard are additional necessities. The jury is still out regarding any improvement in my sleep solitude. The first night’s repose (Thursday) seemed refreshing, but what else would I say? That the usual crick in the neck persists? I mean, hey, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

I have to add mine eyes still regularly pop open in the middle of the night; varying from 90 minutes to every couple of hours. Why so often? It’s always been that way. And obviously, since the “O” visitations began, CR2S is quite accustomed to irregular awakenings. They would be a major sleep hindrance to the sane but merely routine for me. [For example, I woke up four times Monday between midnight and seven a.m.]

If my life depended upon a straight and honest answer, I would say the new sleeping arrangement is an improvement over the old. It’s only been six nocturnes, but it looks like I made a sound investment. Major problem now is learning to sleep on my back; I’m certainly used to sleeping solo.

Having decided on a bedroom makeover, it made sense to get a more comfortable sofa. And a fancy two-headed lamp, one aimed toward my computer desk. Right about now, all I can think of that needs an upgrade would be my antique cell phone. Being prompted to join the 21st century, an iPhone/iPad and endless other e-stuff should be on my to have-and-to-hold list. I doubt Facebook is in my future. Twitter would also be a longshot. Being restricted to 147 characters would be stifling and impossible.

Alas, the recent purchase might have been foolish. I mean, yeah, it’s not like I have that many visitors (for the sofa). And sleeping in a queen bed is of no significance or meaning. I figure at the rate of one dollar a night, I’ll hafta live another four years to get my money’s worth. If not, I’ll donate *everything to the next tenant. [*But will not include “O”.]

W.T. Wimpy Hiroto can be reached at Opinions expressed in this column are not necessarily those of The Rafu Shimpo.

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