Does Not Compute

"Hey Tim," I said.  "Do you think I should color my hair again?" 

The red stripes have faded, and while I realize that everyone and their mother now have colorful stripes in their hair, I kind of like the red haze that hangs in front of my eyes. I might just want to do it again, but I thought I'd see what Tim had to say.

"Well, sure.  If you want to," he replied.

I realized, within the span of a few moments, that I had asked the wrong question.  What I wanted to know was if he liked the color in my hair. Clearly, he didn't get that.  And I can't fault him for it.  I really didn't ask that question.  I just thought he'd figure it out. 

But this is Tim we're talking about.  He is not only male, but Tim.  Clueless, scattered, absent-minded Tim.  The man who can solve a differential equation with ease but can't quite manage to remember to each lunch.  And those kids of ours?  He can't remember names anymore; they are just numbers.  (Just kidding, but if we had any more, he might get to this point quickly.)

I won't belabor the point.  But our little conversation, or lack thereof, has given me the reminder to converse properly with my mate.  I must make sure the input is in proper order for him to compute and put forth the expected output.

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