I don’t unwind. I stall.

I sit in my car like I just escaped something and I’m not convinced it’s over yet. Engine off. Silence. No music, no phone, just the faint ticking of the car cooling down like it also had a long day dealing with nonsense.

That’s the buffer. Because walking straight from work into home life is how you ruin both.

Work drains you in quiet, stupid ways. Repeating yourself. Smiling when you don’t mean it. Pretending things make sense when they absolutely don’t. By the time I park, I’m running on fumes and sarcasm.

So I sit there and let it burn off.

Eventually the noise in my head shuts up. Not completely, just enough. Enough to remember I’m a person and not just a job with a pulse.

Then I go inside.

Dogs lose their minds like I’ve been gone for years. No filter, no fake energy, just pure chaos and loyalty. Honestly, it fixes more than it should.

Then my wife. Real conversation. No scripts. No pretending. Just actual life happening.

That’s the trade. A few quiet minutes alone so I don’t carry the day into the people who don’t deserve it.