If, by some unfortunate circumstances, I survive to 70, I am doing ALL the heroin!
Why continue to play it safe? So I can eat watered down jello, observe my faculties and senses diminish day by day, and piss my pants for another 10-20 years until I expire like spoiled produce with Matlock playing in the background?
Too many people living and working for a possible retirement that may or may not come are going to be disappointed that all they slaved and sacrificed for was to be a worn out husk sitting in a chair too far into decomposition to start living 65 years in.
My work has taken me to countless retirement communities at every socio-economic level, from wards of the state who signed away their social security to the wealthy family members that the 1% throws away to die. The only differences are in the food, and the common area decor, and some cheap tapestries don’t There are a lot of courteous smiles, but absolutely zero happiness to be found in any of them in my experience.
I call working with the intent to make it to that planning for failure.