I guess I was Wrong

A few months ago, Jake and I had this conversation:

A: T's [photography] work is so different from, say, the piece we have downstairs in the living room.

J: What piece?

A: The one hanging opposite the sofa.

J: Uh...what does it look like?

A: You know, the one of the shoes and the dress.

J: What? What are you talking about? What does it look like?

A: You know, that photograph that's been hanging on the wall for, like, the last 3 years? The one that you've been looking at every time we sit on the sofa? The one you see every single day when you walk through the living room?

J: Huh? Is it black and white? Is it in color?

A (head about to explode): How can you not know what I'm talking about? Every night you sit on the couch and look right at it! It's a HUGE framed photograph! It's the only thing hanging on that wall! You know, the one with the shoes and the dress?

J: I have no idea what you're talking about.

A: Aaaaaaaaa!

I concluded that Jake was just remarkably, disturbingly unobservant. But apparently I was wrong, as evidenced by today's conversation:

J (as we're walking on the sidewalk in front of somebody's driveway): That car belongs in this driveway.

A: What?

J: That car. It's going to turn into this driveway.

A: What car?

J: That black Audi.

A:Where?

J: There, down the block, driving this way.

(The car does indeed turn into the driveway.)

A: How did you know that? We're not even anywhere close to home.

J: I notice things.