Yesterday a neighbor asked me how I was enjoying retirement and I gave her my best you-cannot-be-serious look. I hate how people assume that if you're of a certain age and you're not going to an office you've joined the ranks of the superannuated. I was especially touchy yesterday because I hadn't done any writing; my neighbor caught me coming back from running errands, spending a weekday exactly how retirees spend them. But my errands were different: They were clouded by the thought that I should be home writing. Writers may look, and even act, retired, but spoiling the lazy idyll is the guilt that we're not writing. Which is to say, even if we are retired, we're not enjoying it. So please don't ask.