If you had no evidence to tell you what your age was and nothing else could even give you a hint, how old would you say you were?

I think this is a great question to ponder. There really is a difference between your body’s age and the age of your mind.

If you know me at all, you’ll probably agree that I’m around 35 years old about 10 percent of the time, and eight years old the other 90 percent.  I hope that’s still the case when I retire.

Retirement is my inspiration for this column, since that’s what I’ll be doing here after I get to the bottom of this page. The problem is I already wrote my last column back on Feb 23 (Google it), so I feel like I’m already done. I’ve said the mushy stuff, and now I really don’t know what to say.

Still, if you want a tearjerker, listen to “The Graduation Song” by Kinetics & One Love. That chorus will get you seniors going.

Anyway, I think it’s OK that I’ve got nothing left to talk about because now everything can come full circle. I started out writing my first column about dinosaurs so it only makes sense that I finish with some more haphazard rubbish. My editors are going to be peeved by my lack of purpose, but I promised myself I would be genuine and this is how it has to be.

When you retire from something, you go through a couple stages, like trying your hardest to remember all of your best memories. Then you try to squeeze in some last-ditch efforts to tie up all of your loose ends.

That’s why I’m sitting here trying to find a way to say all of the random things I want to say before I can’t say them anymore. Like it matters.

Everyone says follow your heart, and I’m no different — I’m asking you kindly to deal with it. Do what you feel and not what you think. Place your faith in people when they don’t deserve it. Don’t ever blame your heart for your head’s mistakes. Cheer for Tim Tebow. Root for Tiger Woods.

I guess that’s the lot. Wait, there’s one more. When you get something you’ve worked extremely hard for, don’t forget how badly you wanted it before you finally got it.

Now that it’s over, I’m looking forward to the retired life. The best part has to be wearing Velcro shoes. I’m not sure if they make light-up shoes in adult sizes, but if so, I’ll be pimpin’. Haters are going to hate, so I’ll let them keep staring.

I think that’s what retirement is all about — not giving a damn about anything else and just doing what makes you feel cool according to your own standards. The insecurities we all have in life make us feel human, but freeing ourselves from them makes us feel invincible.

To me, reaching that stage in life will also mean not getting worked up about little nuisances, as a form of acceptance. For instance, when I go grocery shopping 40 years from now, I know I’ll always get the shopping cart with the bum wheel, even if I shop online. Then I’ll always choose the wrong checkout lane, even when it’s the self-checkout.

I’m pretty sure we’ll be cool with things like that down the road because of how we aren’t cool with them now.

I think it’s already starting to happen for me, but I might just be in that 10 percent window where I’m a 35 year old right now. I’m not saddened to say goodbye, mostly because I already did that, but I am guilty of caring that it’s all over.

Still, 27 columns is a lot of writing, and three cents per word is not enough even if I get my two cents in every time. Wow, I think the Wisconsin cheese is finally getting to my head. It’s time to move to Florida.