“THE BEST-LAID SCHEMES O’ MICE AN’ MEN gang aft agley.” I thought you were all about feet up, eyes closed, and mind free to roam. So far my retirement has been a buzz of activity, far flung from my best efforts to find peace and nothingness. Who am I? Do I know myself?

I’m so busy. It’s been two weeks, and I’ve had two days off. I also have big news for anyone who owns or vacations in South Lake Tahoe: possible fee hikes, less availability and fewer customers.

So there I am, retired, as of Friday, June 5. I took the following Saturday off. Don’t recall what I did on that day, but it was nothing. Come Sunday I spent my morning writing about my dystopian nightmare of a nation where greed and acquisition run rampant, and ending it with a plug for my buddy hero Independent Bernie Sanders. As the world turns, it often burns, and the times call for a Bernie.

Chain reaction: while writing about Sanders for President I found myself online ordering a bumper sticker from a friend’s Facebook prompt. After all, if I write about Bernie, I should be willing to wear his sticker. That online selection led to a new page that implored thusly: Now that you have our sticker, why don’t you volunteer? I, not wanting to be milk toast in my enthusiasm, clicked yes. So, I’ll have that to look forward to.

Monday, Susan and I drove to our little cabin in Tahoe, a place of sanctuary surrounded by a great stillness. Stellar jays frolick in the treetops. Coyotes howl in the moonlight. Granted, we had a wee bit of work to do first — paint the house — but then backyard bliss awaited us. Susan and I could enjoy trees and sky to our hearts’ content.

Our daughter, Kristi, her husband, Chad, and Tyler, and Jack, the grand kids, were there along with their friends Melinda and her two kids, Kyle and Natalie. We are equal owners with Kristi and Chad. We didn’t inherit. We paid near market value from old grandad and carry a mortgage, so we must vacation rent to add air balloons to our burdens.

Monday, Susan and I drove up early. On arrival, everybody got a brush or a roller. The whole house needed primed. Be careful, but slop won’t hurt anything. Kids had fun. Parents had fun. Nana and Papa had fun. The house got done.

Tuesday, Kristi and their friends were gone, back to work in Sacramento. Chad and the boys stayed with Susan and me. Chad and I sprayed the red house green, for a change. I did the tall-guy spraying. Chad once had a falling out with ladders. We were finished by early afternoon. A few hours later. we tore the paper off the windows and told the family they could return from fishing at The Keys down the street.

Thursday, Chad and I painted trim. The project was finished. No real resting took place beyond our backyard evening chat circles.

Friday, Kristi returned with mail. She was eager to share one letter of great importance. The next Tuesday, the city council would discuss an ordinance proposal to raise our vacation-rental annual license fees by 400 percent. For that increase, they would also impose greater restrictions on how we run our little family business. Future buyers of second homes in South Lake Tahoe who want to vacation-rent would be hit the hardest, and funny thing, they couldn’t be there to defend themselves because they don’t exist yet.

Chad got worked up. He’s a broker and saw the deeper impact on the entire real estate industry in the valley. As a family, we rode our bikes to Pope Beach on the bike trail beside our house. We lounged on beach blankets and chairs, gazed at geese and swimmers, and complained all afternoon about this new ordinance and its flaws as we saw them. Later we biked home and hit the Internet.

We read articles and found two key websites – the local keeptahoevacationrentals.com and the national stradvocacy.com. Just as Uber is disrupting transportation, Aribnb and VHRs are upsetting the lodging industry. One of us had to be at that Tuesday meeting, and Chad and Kristi had to work in Sacramento on Monday, so guess who?

Lucky for the cause, I’ve been an insomniac most of my life, and a new bed doesn’t help. I’m up around 3 most mornings. I’m used to it. I read, daydream, or mine the Internet until sunrise. Even though Susan is the real estate head of the family, I was chosen to represent, so I had to research both side of the issue.

Sunday, the whole family left. Susan and I spent the next two days preparing for Tuesday’s meeting. We started a notebook of talking points. I got the word out through social media to 115 other local interested owners and impacted businesses. I sent messages with key points, links, and the date and time of the meeting. We typed our notes at an Internet café and spent Monday afternoon rehearsing my remarks and reducing them from seven to three minutes through hours of painstaking deletions.

Tuesday came. We closed up the cabin, drove to the 9 a.m. meeting, spoke our minds along with a room packed to overflowing with concerned citizens. I was called to speak among 26 others. It was close to unanimous against the proposal.

Afterward in the hallway, we made many new friends chatting in the lobby, trading business cards and such. Then we returned to Benicia to a mountain of mail and so on.

So, Dear Retirement Diary, tell me why have I been so busy since you began that I have barely smelled a rose? Tell me, too, why, if peace and nothingness is what I claim I desire, do I so enjoy myself right now?

Steve Gibbs teaches at Benicia High School and has written a column for The Herald since 1985.