I might want to tell you this next week. On the road, I have stopped halfway for coffee and food, at a Perkins. Next to me is a table for 12, they are in their church clothes, in their 70's and 80's. The six men are sitting at one end of the long table, the six women at the end, very happily chitchatting within their gender. They are dressed so similarly with such similar appearances (haircuts; jewelry). I wished I'd been here to see what they ordered off the senior menu.

I don't think that was ever going to be me and him, notwithstanding the religion issue. Becoming this old couple never seemed like it was in the cards, and maybe I'm wrong about this, but I don't want it with anyone else. Feels like I am supposed to think this is adorable and the ideal to strive for. Everyone on TV claps when people announce they've been married for 30, 40, whatever years. It makes me want to gag. Maybe I'm just not suitable partner material for the middle age. I don't think I'll ever be and I don't think I will ever want to be and maybe I'm a freak for that.

I love renovating the house exactly the way I want it to be. I don't miss negotiating over anything and everything and making my own choices. Can't imagine sleeping next to anyone again. Where will the dog and cats go?