Phillip Continued

I'm sure you all remember fondly Phillip, my father's pet bag. So I thought you'd like an update on his health and habitation.
This evening, my parents hosted a small get-together in my honor, as I will be making aliyah, G-d willing, on wednesday. In preperation for which, we- ah, this is a long story; see we've been trying to get rid of junk for a long time, you know, organize notebooks and folders and whatnot from the third grade (four seperate third grades, actually,)and toys and clothes and boots, and get them into storage or donate them someplace. only, us being us, we get things organized and in boxes, and then the boxes sit around in our living room, and den, and dining room, and bedrooms, at various convenient locations in narrow hallways and on stairway landings, and basically everywhere; not to mention mail and magazines and various other sorts and manner of publications, which roost in whatever homey locations they may find. it's kind of a mess. so we were trying to do something about this mess, because we had company coming over. but there is only so much you can do in such a short amount of time.
anyway, in one such pile of boxes lived Phillip these last several weeks. But tonight, Phillip's home needed to be removed. so my father removed him from his box, where he had a full window view of the dining room and all subsequent action and could observe unobtrusively contented, and placed Phillip inside his (my Dad's) hatbox, which resides in a corner of the den and has a top.
"But Dad," I protested. "Now he can't see!"
so my father turned the box around to where the holes lived (because apparently hatboxes come with peepholes,) and said "There, now he can see. See, he's afraid of crowds, so he wanted to hide, but he still wants to keep an eye on the action."
We all contemplated this thought with some measure of satisfaction(although in truth, the peepholes are angled towards the wall and not the dining room; but why trifle over petty details?)
"Hey," said my Dad suddenly, "how do you know which side has the eyes?" Phillip is a plastic Jewel bag, remember, complete with logo and handles, and a noticable paucity of facial features.
"How?" I asked.
"Same side as the ears!" cackled my Dad in response, waving Phillip by his handles.
"Dad - " I paused. I blinked. " - what?"
"Exactly!" And with a final triumphant crow, my Dad placed Phillip securely in his new home.
(Incidentally, we had a chocolate fountain at my party. It was cool.)