Oblivious

“Oh! Flowers! How long has that been there?” It had just registered with my absent-minded husband that a pot of blooming daffodils was sitting on our normally empty stair landing. It had been there for several days, but I was still impressed. Usually he doesn’t notice such things at all.

Let’s just say that Pete isn’t the most observant guy around. This used to bother me greatly. I would buy a new outfit (a very rare occurrence, since I really hate to shop). When exaggerated mannerisms didn’t work, I resorted to more desperate ploys. “Sweetie—notice anything different?”

He would invariably answer, “Nice haircut.”

It got to be a joke. Rearrange the living room. “Nice haircut.” Paint the white hallway a lovely shade of peach. “Nice haircut.” Replace the photographs in the frames over our couch. “Nice haircut.”

In fact, the only change I could make that wouldn’t elicit “nice haircut” was to actually cut my hair.

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