Subtleties

I am an observer. I notice things like a person's change in disposition, whether or not a couple walking together is wearing wedding rings, and what time of day I might expect to see the same people around my town. I notice when something on sale at CVS has a matching manufacturer's coupon. I notice when my favorite peanut butter is suddenly 10 cents more expensive even though the jar is 2 ounces smaller. I'm no Adrian Monk, but I notice things.

There are other things, though, try as I may, that I will never notice. I'll never notice when my husband needs a haircut, or even that he's gotten it cut, unless he tells me. I won't notice when I'm tired, though I would probably notice if I was well-rested. And something I completely don't notice is the difference between a dark blue suit and a black one. I'm pretty certain the designers just say they're different shades to sell you one of each.

I mention this because I packed for our trip today and assured Mike that I didn't need help. I packed him four ties, for crying out loud, so he could choose from an assortment on the day of the wedding. You want your black suit? You've got it. Leave it to me, Dear, I don't get out much but I can handle packing a suitcase. I noticed in the evening that he was looking over what I'd packed...not so much in a critical sense, but in a curious one. He informed me that I'd packed his blue suit. Um, no...look again, I packed the black one. No, it's blue. You're kidding me. I held them next to each other trying to make the distinction, to no avail. I'll just take his word for it. In the end, he packed the charcoal one instead.