Eating and sleeping and using a bathroom. These are three things we did not need to do in Eorzea. In fact, while eating and sleeping were things we could do if we wanted, I had never heard of bathrooms before coming to Earth.

We could eat, and did eat, but we did not need to. Certain foods made us stronger in certain ways, so they were useful before exploring a dungeon. And Husband was fond of matcha while doing his harder crafting. The hunger I feel in Earth is new to me. Husband has a theory that since we channeled aether in Eorzea our bodies naturally replenished from the flow. That we get hungry here is one of the ways our bodies have changed.

Nor did we need to sleep. Again, we could, if we wanted to. It was sometimes a way for me to pass time not thinking about disasters happening. It was something Husband and I could do together when we grew close. But we did not get tired as we do here. I once spent three days fishing at the Sanctum of the Twelve, standing in water to my waist. Because it was quiet, and peaceful. And because it was pretty, with all the leaves and flower petals floating in the water. And because I wanted to catch The Assassin.

I do not want to talk about bathrooms.

We have a bed to use at the Hartman house. We pay for our room with housework. Just like we pay for our chance to sell our food at the diner with cleaning. And we pay for our drinks at Sam's bar with furniture. Or perhaps Sam pays for our furniture with drinks.

We could perhaps do these things in any town, but we are doing them here. We know this place, and this place and its people know us, like how I knew Limsa and everything in it. This town is our "home point," and the place in the woods outside of it, where the circle brought us, is where Return takes us.

"word for something that does not need to change": "constant", "steady", "stable"

"word for something that must change": "unstable", "fragile", "unsustainable"

We could simply stay here. No one we saw in Limsa ever left. And Husband says there are people who spend their entire lives in one place, in one town.

But that is not who I am. I do not think that is who Husband is. There is much more world out there, and we have not seen it or mapped it. And though we have a bed and a workshop and jobs and a community, we also have what Husband calls an "itch." I am sure we will leave some time. Perhaps we will always come back here, but first we will go. This simple life, as pleasant as it may be, is unsustainable for us.

There are probably other beds in the world. And we have our tent. And Husband has talked about something called a "winnebago."

I understand it has a bathroom.