Why does a 69-year-old who hates work still go to work?

I hate work.
Have I ever thought work was fun?

Honestly, I can't really remember.

I remember that even when I was a small child, I hated going to kindergarten and gave my mother a hard time.

I preferred being at home alone, reading picture books or playing with building blocks.

And that hasn't fundamentally changed even at this age.

If I could, I would just lounge around at home.

So, why do I go to work?
Because I'm a little worried that my pension alone isn't enough.
To prevent my status within the household from dropping.
Because I feel somewhat uneasy being alone with my wife every single day.

Well, there's that too.

In my case, I don't have any particularly noble reasons like wanting to contribute to society or wanting to be useful to someone.

Then why do I still go to work now that I'm 69?

Last year, I spent nearly a year at home recuperating.

That was when I finally realized.
I go because I don't want to go!!

That's right.
It is precisely because I have spent several days doing work I dislike that my days off spent lounging around are enjoyable.

If every day were a day off, it wouldn't be a day off anymore.

That is why, even today, I am reluctantly riding the commuter train.