What I Notice

It took me 12 hours to notice the Dumpster was missing from the driveway. It takes me 1.2 seconds to notice if a ewe is lambing in a field, if a horse is lame, if a dog is not feeling well.

The Dumpster had been sitting behind our house for a week. I walked by it on my way to the barn, on my way to the garage. When I was getting ready to take the trash to the garage, the spouse said, "Throw it in the Dumpster."

I thought that there was no way I was throwing a garbage bag in an open Dumpster. By morning, the cats or raccoons would have it shredded. I thought this as I walked on the gravel where the Dumpster used to sit.

The next morning, on my way back from my morning workout in the garage, I noticed the Dumpster missing.

"Did you see them take the Dumpster this morning," I asked the spouse.

The spouse looked at me and said two words, "Investigative reporter?"

I suppose that in a complex world, where our senses are being bombarded constantly, we can only be aware of so many things. Apparently, Dumpsters in the backyard are low on my priority list.