If Mrs. HM Had Two Good Knees, And Farmer H Had Two Good Eyes, They Could Communicate More Efficiently

Friday evening, Farmer H left for the auction at 6:00. He'd finished his supper in the La-Z-Boy while I sat on the short couch to chat. Then he took his plate to the kitchen, and left. I reached for the TV remote, and saw his phone on the table, attached to his charger-battery-thingy. Oh, no! Farmer H loves his phone! He's always fiddling with it. He sends me pictures from the auction. He calls me on his way home. Now he'd left it behind. It's not like I could call and tell him he forgot his phone...

I jumped up and rushed to the front door. You know. Rushed. In my own way, more of a hobble, grabbing at the back of the long couch on the way to the door. I stepped out on the front porch to see SilverRedO tooling up the driveway. I waved my arms, willing Farmer H to notice me. He did not.

Thing is, Farmer H only has one good eye. He lost the sight in his left eye when he was 14, looking into an unexploded parachute firework, on the Fourth of July. The eye that was on the side of SilverRedO that was exposed to the porch view. So he couldn't peripherally notice my conniptions on the front porch.

I thought Farmer H might notice that his phone was missing, and return for it. He did not. If I'd made it to the porch faster, he would have been looking right at me, with his good eye, through SiverRedO's windshield, before backing out from under the carport.

What we have here is a failure to communicate.