After a Year of Covid
You know how sometimes couples who have been together for a long time can finish each other’s sentences? I used to think that was charming. After a year of covid togetherness, forget finishing simple sentences. We can complete whole days of each other’s conversations. Maybe even ALL possible conversations that we might ever have. It’s gotten to the point where I feel that if we both suddenly dropped dead the relationship would somehow still carry on without either one of us being needed.
Since I know exactly what Dave will say, do or think in any and all situations, I can, and often do, have whole lengthy conversations with him in my head. When I’m through, I’ll have worked out all the ideas and plans we need to make. Later, when I act on our agreed plan, he’ll ask a dumb question like, “When did we decide that?” And I’ll have to stop and repeat the whole thing out loud only to hear him say verbatim, exactly what he already said in my mind and then reach the same conclusion that I knew he would. This is very tedious and time consuming.
There is NO mystery left in our relationship. None. Zero. Zip. We know one another’s bathroom habits to a distressing degree. Dave probably knows more about my digestive system than I do, being an objective observer so to speak.
And it’s not just in the daily stuff where we can think for each other. If something unusual were to happen, the outcome is still totally predictable. Say we’re driving along one night on a lonely road when suddenly, out of nowhere appears a flying saucer. Dave will slam on the brakes. We’ll have a frantic whispered discussion on what we should do. We both think of the same sci-fi movies, but decide that those are silly, so rather than run for our lives, we opt to back up a little and pull over onto the side of the road to watch. Dave, predictably, finds the only bush that blocks our vision while also leaving us as invisible as our cat who hides by putting only her head under the bed. The saucer lands and a ramp unfolds. Predictably, after five minutes of nothing else happening, I get bored and decide it’s safe to venture closer. Dave tries to stop me, but I brush him off and gently ease open my door as quietly as I can. I slip out and immediately trip landing with a thundering crash. Undaunted, I carefully get up and start creeping toward the spaceship gaining confidence as I go. Dave, feeling both super annoyed but also obscurely protective, gets out of the car to somehow save me knowing full well he has no chance against the aliens. But it’s too late! I am seized by a tractor beam and am sucked up into the spaceship.
Seven hours later we both “wake up” back in the car. Our memories have been wiped so I don’t remember the hideous medical experiments I underwent and Dave doesn’t remember frantically running around and around the spaceship yelling for help, although later he will wonder why he’s caught a cold. We try to figure out what happened, but we can’t make sense of it, so we drive to the nearest town for breakfast where he will order pancakes and I will order the biscuits and gravy, remarking, as I always do, that this is the one thing I’ve never been able to successfully make myself. Odds are high that he will mention that his sister cheats by using canned gravy and I will remark on my shock when I found out that my grandmother used Bisquick to make her “old world” plum cake. Later, it will become evident that my memory has suffered some permanent damage.
Holy Smoke! Maybe I’m not just making this up! Maybe this actually happened and the memory wipe went a little too far! It would explain so much.
Meanwhile, we’ve just had the following text conversation:
Stop?
8 or 9?
14
Ha ha! He’s so cute! I’d better wrap this up for now and go. If you didn’t quite follow, Dave’s asking if I’m planning to stop by Smith’s grocery on the way home and if I am, to pick up some grapes and the sushi he likes. I’m jokingly asking if wants 7 or 8 bags since he’s been gobbling grapes like popcorn lately. Expanding on the humor, he says he wants 14 bags which really means I should get one bag of green and one of purple unless they’re on sale, then I should get two of each. Also, don’t get the spicy topping on the sushi. Plus, it would be a nice surprise if I picked up a violet drink for him from Starbucks.
Sure, I’ll be glad to. After all, he’s vacuumed the whole house while I’ve been away. I’ll have to remember to act surprised when I get home.
Since I know exactly what Dave will say, do or think in any and all situations, I can, and often do, have whole lengthy conversations with him in my head. When I’m through, I’ll have worked out all the ideas and plans we need to make. Later, when I act on our agreed plan, he’ll ask a dumb question like, “When did we decide that?” And I’ll have to stop and repeat the whole thing out loud only to hear him say verbatim, exactly what he already said in my mind and then reach the same conclusion that I knew he would. This is very tedious and time consuming.
There is NO mystery left in our relationship. None. Zero. Zip. We know one another’s bathroom habits to a distressing degree. Dave probably knows more about my digestive system than I do, being an objective observer so to speak.
And it’s not just in the daily stuff where we can think for each other. If something unusual were to happen, the outcome is still totally predictable. Say we’re driving along one night on a lonely road when suddenly, out of nowhere appears a flying saucer. Dave will slam on the brakes. We’ll have a frantic whispered discussion on what we should do. We both think of the same sci-fi movies, but decide that those are silly, so rather than run for our lives, we opt to back up a little and pull over onto the side of the road to watch. Dave, predictably, finds the only bush that blocks our vision while also leaving us as invisible as our cat who hides by putting only her head under the bed. The saucer lands and a ramp unfolds. Predictably, after five minutes of nothing else happening, I get bored and decide it’s safe to venture closer. Dave tries to stop me, but I brush him off and gently ease open my door as quietly as I can. I slip out and immediately trip landing with a thundering crash. Undaunted, I carefully get up and start creeping toward the spaceship gaining confidence as I go. Dave, feeling both super annoyed but also obscurely protective, gets out of the car to somehow save me knowing full well he has no chance against the aliens. But it’s too late! I am seized by a tractor beam and am sucked up into the spaceship.
Seven hours later we both “wake up” back in the car. Our memories have been wiped so I don’t remember the hideous medical experiments I underwent and Dave doesn’t remember frantically running around and around the spaceship yelling for help, although later he will wonder why he’s caught a cold. We try to figure out what happened, but we can’t make sense of it, so we drive to the nearest town for breakfast where he will order pancakes and I will order the biscuits and gravy, remarking, as I always do, that this is the one thing I’ve never been able to successfully make myself. Odds are high that he will mention that his sister cheats by using canned gravy and I will remark on my shock when I found out that my grandmother used Bisquick to make her “old world” plum cake. Later, it will become evident that my memory has suffered some permanent damage.
Holy Smoke! Maybe I’m not just making this up! Maybe this actually happened and the memory wipe went a little too far! It would explain so much.
Meanwhile, we’ve just had the following text conversation:
Stop?
8 or 9?
14
Ha ha! He’s so cute! I’d better wrap this up for now and go. If you didn’t quite follow, Dave’s asking if I’m planning to stop by Smith’s grocery on the way home and if I am, to pick up some grapes and the sushi he likes. I’m jokingly asking if wants 7 or 8 bags since he’s been gobbling grapes like popcorn lately. Expanding on the humor, he says he wants 14 bags which really means I should get one bag of green and one of purple unless they’re on sale, then I should get two of each. Also, don’t get the spicy topping on the sushi. Plus, it would be a nice surprise if I picked up a violet drink for him from Starbucks.
Sure, I’ll be glad to. After all, he’s vacuumed the whole house while I’ve been away. I’ll have to remember to act surprised when I get home.