One of the things that I have always loved about being married to a person in the military is that it cuts down on a lot of the decision-making in my life. Decisions making is hard for me - there is usually some sort of spreadsheet involved, and it usually takes months, even if we're just talking about buying new sheets for my bed. Thankfully, the military helps me out by telling me where to live, and when to move, and where to go to the doctor, and things like that.
This has worked out quite well for me, for the last 18 years. I have always maintained that the thought of leaving the Navy was terrifying. As my friends and friends' husbands would leave the service, I would panic for them. I like having an income, I'm funny like that.
He of the Sea had been in the Navy for two years when we got married, so you can do the math. (I'll help, 2 + 18 = yup, 20.) We've reached the point in time where, in theory, HotS could retire. If he wanted to. If I wanted him to. If that's what we agreed is best as a family. And some day, sooner or later, the Navy is going to say "It was great having you! Hope everything works out!" and we'll have to figure out life for ourselves. I don't like it.
We hope to have a few more years before the dreaded R word becomes a reality. Until then, I'm going to enjoy having life planned for me, and pretend that a decision-filled future isn't looming ahead in the distance.