You Be Me, I’ll Be You
My wife and I woke up one day and we had switched personalities. She was me. I was her. To be perfectly accurate we both eventually woke up different people. She typically likes to sleep in a little later and I’ve recently had the habit of bounding out of bed before dawn.
This particular morning she was the one up bright and early and I dragged my butt out at 8:30. I needed some important me time under the comforter. I wasn’t being lazy. Just constructively indulgent.
It’s usually her doing this. We both know the rule. If she’s not up by 9 am I have permission to let the cat alarm in. I open the door a crack and Dove the Cat does the rest.
It turns out this was just the start of it. It’s been going on now for about a week but it began as just one of those quirky things that sometimes happens. Our waking up behaviors had reversed. She’s up. I’m the un-rousable one.
Not all that strange. Not if it just ended there.
We fit the pattern of many other couples in our asymmetrical launch timing. Day trips, evenings out, running errands together, none of it ever breaks the mold. I’m ready first and wait for her. Now this pattern is so engrained that I don’t get my nose unduly disjointed about it. I understand there are differences in the logistics of female vs male preparation. It’s her job to attend to those details and mine to be accommodating.
So the philosophical approach is the way to go, whether it be facing our own mortality or facing the wait that attends the uneven launch schedules of the married couple.
But on this particular day Stefanie had her shoes and coat on and keys in her hand. “Meet you in the car!” she sang as she flew out the door with our dog. I was involved in various complexities like shutting down my computer and filing papers. And I still needed to get those shoes on.
“Something strange is happening to us!” I told her after achieving take-off. “You were out the door way before me.” Stefanie did think that was a little odd because we were just talking about our new waking patterns.
We got in the car and left for the little daylight adventure we had planned. It was then that the new and distinct evidence of polarity reversal appeared.
Now I don’t mean to infer that Stefanie is directionally impaired. That would be a huge overstatement since she manages quite well under normal conditions. When we were first dating she lived in the city and I lived in the suburbs so she had an excellent mental map of the city in her head and I took charge with my suburban version once we crossed over the city limits.
The usual pattern is a bit different though with me being somewhat more navigationally accurate. But on the day in question we had exchanged these skills. We were returning from our day trip with our dog Isabelle, a lovely day spent at a 1850’s living history farm in Tennessee called “The Homeplace”. We pet some mules. We watched a guy making shake shingles. We did some oxen gazing.
It was a great day. Until we got back in the car. Once I was behind the wheel I proceeded to get us all turned around driving home. I wanted to go back home a different way and could’ve sworn we were headed north but we just wound up driving in a big circle while Stefanie made all the right calls and told me I was probably doing just that. Once we were headed back home the same way it became obvious to me too. That was me being her.
What is happening to us? What’s next? Will she start eating ice cream with nuts and chocolate chips? Will I just eat ice cream that’s “creamy”? Will Stefanie now tell a story that is short and sweet while I tell the detail packed stem-winder? One day she might actually sit down and watch a football game. Reality will never be the same.
Until then we’ll just see how it goes. One thing that won’t change is that we will continue to accommodate each other’s differences. That part is forever who we are.
Darn creepy though, this personality transplant. This morning I forced myself out of bed before her and checked the mirror just to be sure I was still Dave. I’ll keep you posted.
