Well, we can scratch that plan of retiring when I'm 62 off the agenda. First, someone reminded me that although I can retire when I'm 62, I won't be eligible for Medicare until I'm 65.
And then I found out that I actually don't get 100% of my Social Security pension until I'm 66 years and two months old, not 65, as I'd assumed. That was an unpleasant surprise that came to me rather late, since the changes went into effect after a 1983 change in the law, and yes, I managed to miss it over the 32 intervening years, as I suspect a lot of people did (but seriously, kaffyr ... seriously? You, a reporter, managed to miss this rather huge change that was undoubtedly talked about at length publicly?) So if I actually quit when I was 62, I'd only get 74 percent or so of my pension. Augh. Not doable, not in the least.
This threatened to screw over my day - and, given that my shrink declined today to prescribe me the kind of anti-anxiety help that my two other doctors thought I should have on hand for emergencies, instead upping my regular dose of gabapentin instead - screwing over my day was not something I wanted to deal with.
And then I decided not to let it get me down. If I can manage to last even four more years, I'll get over 90 percent of my pension, and it will give me four more years to put into my 401K as well. And that's all to the good.
To be truthful, I think part of my desire to quit when I'm 62 is my belief that my current employer is going to try to break the union in 2017; I'm not sure it won't be successful, and the thought of working in a non-union environment, or losing any of the benefits that I worked very hard over the last few decades to gain, was filling me with a lot of not-so-nebulous dread.
Still - four years and change? I can do it ... maybe not standing on my head, but I can do it.
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