I was just getting some Clostridium botulinum shot into my face, as you do, when my doctor asked how work was today.

And I guess I made kind of a funny noise, because she started laughing. And then I started laughing. And we could not stop. And you have to understand—I love this woman. I’ve been going to her since I moved to Chicago, and we have the kind of relationship where when she walks into the room and sees it’s me, she does this cry of recognition that just makes my day. For three years now, I’ve been regaling her with my inappropriate stories, because our running joke is that she makes me look so young that I’m able to trawl skate parks for a good two weeks post-injection. She’s cool as hell and I take it as a huge compliment that I’m simpatico with a board certified surgeon.

Anyway, there she was, trying to stop laughing long enough to load her syringe, and I was like, “You don’t understand. I actually sat down and did the math this weekend. This is my first job, Lorri. I got my first job at forty-seven, and it’s haaaaard.”

Still laughing, she turned and looked me. “What on earth are you talking about?” So I broke it down for her. She already knew about the dancing.

“Well, I danced from age twenty-one to thirty-two, remember?” She nodded. “Okay, well I don’t know about you, but I don’t count that as real work. That was a couple days a week, and often off for weeks at a time. Then I got married. Rich husband. Didn’t work for a few more years. Did some passion projects, but nothing full time. Mom died. Inheritance. Dad died. Bigger inheritance. Didn’t run out of money until I was 40 years old. Worked as a personal assistant for a few months. That was just riding around in his car keeping him company. Not work, not even close. Finally got a go-to-the-job type job. Restaurant counter service. I eventually managed the place, but it never really felt like work. Some long hours for sure, but mentally extremely easy. On my feet all day, so tired in a good way—you know? I was never, ever too tired on those work days to work out, or go out, or write. Plus it was working with hilarious fun people, who were some of my best friends.”

“Put your head back. Hold still. Go on.”

“Okay, well that company went under, so I moved to Chicago to manage that coworking place.”

“Wait, what coworking place?”

“Just this place on LaSalle that went under. Doesn’t matter. But all I did at that job was sit around and work on building my website all day. And study French.”

“What do you mean? What were you supposed to do?”

“I didn’t have to do anything, because there was nothing to do. I just had to make sure the tenants had coffee. I just had to be onsite to turn the damn lights on and off and make sure the temperature was good. It was a joke. Easiest job ever. But then that place shut down, and that’s when I met the people I work with now. They invited me to come work with them in an admin role, so that’s what I did. And it’s full time in an office, and not super hard, but it can be kind of stressful, and it’s a full eight hours a day of actual working.”

I looked at her and started laughing again. She started laughing again.

“So you didn’t take this job until you were forty-seven?” she asked.

“Correct. I basically had a reverse retirement. This is the first time in my life I’ve had to have the kind of 9-to-5 grind most people do, for decades. And I’m not handling it well, Lorri.”

(We are practically in tears at this point.)

The conversation went on, and I filled her in a little bit on what those years were like. The travel, the festivals, the writing, Chaucer—I gave her the broad strokes. And I’m kind of holding my breath, because this is a highly successful woman with years and years of education and work experience under her belt. I’m thinking she must think I’m an absolute twit. But she just leans back against the counter with her arms crossed, and shakes her head.

“I think that’s amazing. I love that so much. Good for you. You got to do all that stuff and enjoy it, at the right time in your life.”

I exhaled. “Really? Because I was trying to blog it this weekend, and I don’t know if I was explaining myself well at all, but that’s what I wanted to say. I think I’ve been so unbelievably lucky. But I don’t know if it just sounds crazy to someone else.”

“No,” she said. “I think that’s amazing.” And she just kind of held her smile then, for a few extra seconds, in a way that made me think she understood I’d needed to hear that.

When I checked out, my bill was almost $250 less than usual. I have no idea if it was an accounting error on the part of the receptionist or because I made my doctor laugh, but a win’s a win.