Social Security used to be for “old” people.

Now I am one.

Silently, while I slept last Wednesday night, the people at the Social Security Administration made the first of (I hope) many deposits to my checking account. I didn’t even have to go to the post office to pick up a check.

Is this a great country, or what?

I can remember one of many job interviews when I was in my 20s. This one was at Factory Mutual Insurance Co. on Route 1 in Norwood, Mass. I didn’t want to work then any more than I do now, but went to the job interview to keep my mother happy. The officious interviewer went on at great length about the wonderful retirement benefits. I can remember thinking: Who is ever going to live long enough to collect retirement benefits?

Well, now I have.

Retirement is, so far, my favorite time of life. I can remember all of those stories about my friends’ fathers who had such a difficult time when they retired. Mothers did not work in those days. Many of the fathers died shortly after retirement because, it seemed, they simply did not know what to do with themselves. That must have been before computers, Amazon.com and fingertip ordering of lurid detective novels.

People invariably ask, “What do you do all day now that you are retired?” Actually there is an endless list of things to do. I just don’t do them. I have been planning to paint the interior walls of my house since Hurricane Bob, the day carpenters cut a hole in the side of the house for an atrium door. Last month, I solicited painting bids from my equally lazy friends and got no takers, other than from an unemployed actor-author who must think I am rich now that the Social Security checks are coming.

Of course, I could have suspended the benefits until I reached age 65 and increased the check by about $500 a month. But with my sharpened pencil, I deduced that I would have to live until age 78 for the higher check to make up for the three years of benefit at the lower amount.

Who expects to live to be 78?

I have taken my first check and headed off for a tour of Florida baseball sites. Blue Eyes, who is much too dedicated, has decided to stay home and send some more people to prison. She says she expects me to do all of these things – ski, sail, travel to Florida – when she retires in nine years.

Who expects to live nine more years?

Course, I never expected to live long enough to get Social Security, either.

One of the many benefits of becoming “old” is the senior citizen discount offers. But that doesn’t mean much to me. I looked like I was 75 when I was 40, with this mane of Irish white hair. I have been getting the senior discounts for years and never said a word.

All in all, it is surprisingly great to be officially “old,” especially when you consider the alternative.

Send complaints and compliments to Emmet Meara at emmetmeara@msn.com.