On being connected

You know how you meet someone and for some reason you are just completely in sync with each other?  It might be because we have known each other for such a long time (26 years!!) or because our backgrounds
are quite similar, but Etienne and I have almost always been like that.

Even in the early days we would be sitting in a restaurant and someone would walk in the distance or we would drive past something.  I would notice something and start: “Did you see that..” and Etienne would finish the sentence and be 100% spot on.

We have this thing where we finish each other’s sentences.  And arb stuff sometimes that’s not even remotely connected to what we were talking about at the time.

“Remember, we still have to…… check school hours for next year” when we are sprawled on the couch after being spewed out of the nightly vortex that is our children.

One of the sure ways I know that we are out of touch with each other is when we stop doing that or we get it wrong.  Then I know that we need to regroup and sort out some stuff.  And then, when it’s sorted out we get right back to talking in half sentences.  It’s uncanny and downright weird sometimes.  I often think “How did he know I was going to say that?” or when he starts a sentence I am blown away when I just know what he is going to say.

That is why I think it freaks him out when he doesn’t understand why I feel low sometimes and I can’t explain why.  And the door is closed for him to understand without me actually saying anything.  Because I don’t really know myself.  Depression is SUCH a bitch.

Do you have this in your relationship too or are we just weird?

PS. He offered to bath the dogs yesterday morning to give me a chance to catch up on some Christmas gifts I am making.  He kindly dressed the kids and coached them nicely on how to hold the garden hose and the doggy shampoo.  Eventually, after hearing she sheer exasperation in his voice I go outside.  And there he was, desperately holding on to Lily with Daniel clutching the bottle of shampoo and the girls shrieking away
in mirth at the very unhappy dog.  Wet Husband, not so wet dog, dry children lined up against the wall canning
themselves.  So we ended up sorting out the dogs and only then I realized that the neighbours’ back door that looks out on our back garden was open.

And I was wearing was a short nighty and no bra.

And here are our ablebodied assistants driving the tap: