So it’s my last week at work. My retirement party is Friday evening, and I’m sure that there will be plenty of tears, laughs, and promises to stay in touch. My desk is pretty much cleaned out, my project list is blank, and I’m happy to report that the last week of work is very similar to the first week of work—you’d don’t really do too much.

I started the week like I usually do, arriving on Monday morning at 7:30 AM. I’m normally the only one in the office for that first 30 minutes, but this week, the Vice President of Operations was waiting for me with coffee and donuts. We spent most of Monday talking, laughing, and wondering about my replacement.

This morning I arrived at 8:00 AM. That extra 30 minutes just doesn’t make any sense when you’re computer drive is empty and you only have exit paperwork to sign off on. I’ll be meeting with my financial advisor tomorrow over lunch. We’ll talk about the Brexit vote and what it means for my investments. Whether it’s because I’m in my last week or because I’ve finally learned not to panic, somehow I’m remaining calm about the whole situation. These are my plans for the last week of work.

My husband has been watching me anxiously every evening. Despite the months we’ve spent planning our retirement celebratory trip, he’s still secretly convinced that I’ll fall apart once I have no job to come back to. He’s already retired, and had no trouble growing accustomed to the “life of leisure”, as he calls it. I’m only slightly worried that he’s right, but I refuse to dwell on it. We’ll be visiting California, the Redwood Forest, and discovering New Mexico. With so much to look forward to, I don’t plan on spending too much time looking back.

After working for over 40 years, I’m ready for a long vacation. As I was looking in my closet this morning, I realized that I’d need more casual clothes. Business attire isn’t going to work for picnics at the park, playing with the grandkids, and sightseeing. It’s funny, the things that occur to you when you’re on the precipice of a big life change. I determined that I’d need to go on a shopping spree. A small part of me considered just going during the workday, since I don’t have anything to do, but even with my last day looming at the end of the week, I can’t break a lifetime of habit. Exorbitantly long lunches and early evenings aren’t in my plans for the rest of the week.

This time next week, I’ll be writing about retirement from the other side, and I can’t wait. I’m a planner. I make lists, budgets, and set goals. I doubt that any of that will change just because I change my job description to “Retired” on my tax forms. So I’ve already planned what I’ll do on Friday. I’ll arrive at 8 AM. I’ll make sure my desk is empty, my office is clean, and my coworkers have everything they need from me before I go. I’ll send out the final good-bye e-mail, drink coffee, and probably go out to lunch with some friends. I’ll go to my retirement party. I’ll go home. I’ll wake up on Saturday, officially retired. And I’ll start making plans.