I have this friend in Florida named Fred. He's a transplanted Bostonian who moved to South Florida eons ago. He still has that New England accent and still believes the Boston Red Sox will one day upend the "Evil Empire." He is a dreamer. He retired about seven years ago and has been trying to convince me to do the same so that we can spend time together cleaning out the cat and dog bowls. My friend Fred is a tad older than I am even though we both ran up San Juan Hill with Teddy Roosevelt. But, that's another story.

In any event, Florida Fred quit the rat race with a fairly decent payout. But, before he actually took the money and ran, he did some fancy footwork in getting himself ready for the time when he would spend a half-hour cleaning Brandy's (his Yorkie's) bowl. (Incidentally, I don't believe in the word "retirement." I think in terms of "changing lifestyles." I have no intention of spending a half-hour cleaning the cat's bowl.)

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