Day 1176 Tim

 

Thank goodness for home... and Tim!

After a stressful day, I did all I could to detox, but ultimately, poor Tim had to listen to me rant about my day. He listened, gave advice, and then we went out to dinner at the bowling alley to reset. I think he’s usually happy to listen to me—as long as I’m not ranting about him!

Having someone at home to unwind with is a luxury neither of us takes for granted. Our home is our sanctuary, where we can both relax, unwind, rant if we want, and always feel love and support. I’m sure it helps us both face the world each day, knowing we have that safety net waiting for us each night.

I imagine when we both retire, still years away, we’ll be happy as two peas in a pod. I’ll bake, thrift shop, and maybe even keep a clean house. Tim will be the top gamer in his online world, caught up on every sports game, and up to date on the latest scandals on Reddit and Barstool. Sounds pretty darn good to me.

When to retire is always a gamble, if only we knew how long we’d live! A friend of my mom’s just passed away at 103 years old. He still lived at home with his wife and was physically and mentally sharp up until a week before his death. He easily could have worked until he was 85 and still enjoyed twenty good years of retirement! My dad, on the other hand, passed at 77. Thankfully, he retired in his fifties after putting in thirty years with our local school department.

Tim and I often speculate about who will outlive whom....morbid I know. We both agree I’ll probably live longer—but in reality, you never know. I do know he’s already made arrangements with my daughter to fold his laundry in the event I die first. Always thinking ahead! He’ll need more than a laundry folder if I go first, but hey, it’s a start.

Either way, I can’t imagine living without him by my side. Through good days and bad, he’s my go-to man, my calm after the storm, and my favorite part of coming home.

Because at the end of the day, it’s not where you live that makes it home, it’s who’s there waiting for you.

“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” — Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights