On Sunday of my weekend with a short to-do list, I went for a four-mile walk in the morning. On the outskirts of my neighborhood I turned left instead of going straight. Within half a block I was someplace else - fields behind houses, different dogs, new construction. At the end of three blocks I descended a long set of stairs into a McMansion neighborhood I never knew existed, though I have lived in this neighborhood for 15 years. I could have been in a different state. Then behind that subdivision was the back of the high school my son attended, then the street I've driven on five thousand times at least.

What if I'd gone straight on my neighborhood road? Or added items to my to-do list? "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood," I thought. Of course my experience was common - when I leave my routine I have the chance to be surprised.

Three miles into my walk my cellphone rang. An old friend, terminally ill, struggling with issues of resentment and forgiveness. Behind the fire station there was a little park where I couldn't hear the road noise. I sat at the picnic table and listened. I suspect some of my early retirement days will be spent with my friend in his final ones. I'm glad I'll have the open time and that I'm not afraid to do it.

After my walk I did some reading and took a nap. Oh, and four loads of laundry - the only remaining item on my to-do list.

I'd say my weekend experiment was a success.