Time Out
Chicago, the vocal group, not the city, released a song back around 1970 the first line of which goes “Does anybody really know what time it is? Does anybody really care?” In my household, the answer to both of those questions is a resounding “NO”!
This morning, while getting ready for church services, I looked at grandfather clock in the hallway and it said 9:45. The clock in the family room said 10:20. The clock in the kitchen said 10:05. I looked at my watch, and it said 5:08. The battery stopped. And the clock on the coffee maker simply blinked as the power had gone out for a few minutes yesterday. The clock in my car said 9:00 as I had yet to change it from standard time to daylight savings time.
So using my extraordinary powers of deduction, I concluded that it was 10:00. The clock in the family room runs fast, and is now 20 minutes ahead of where it should be. We keep it that way so we don’t dally over our morning coffee as we start to get ready for work at 6:00 in the morning. The grandfather clock in the hallway loses at least a minute to two minutes each day, and none of us had bothered to move the clock ahead. The digital clocks are a fiasco all by themselves. They are supposed to have battery back up to prevent the blinkin’ blinking, but the batteries had run out and I couldn’t figure out where to put in the new ones. The clock in my car, which was accurate under “slow” time, is beyond my technological capability in figuring out how to set it. So many buttons, so little time. The last time I tried to set it, I accidently "pimped my ride" by turning up the bass on the radio, excuse me...sound system, so loud I had to take it to the dealership to turn it down.
How I long for the days of my Big Ben alarm clock. You either wound it up on the back of the clock, or on the more advanced ones, plugged it in. On the electric ones, the dial acted as a night light. On the wind up ones, it had enough radiation in those green, glowing illuminated hands to fuel Three Mile Island or Chernobyl. Always accurate, I was never late. Those suckers got me through college and midnight feedings of the baby.
Now I rely on the little clock on the cable television screen to tell me what time it is. You know, the one in the little swirly box right next to the Doppler radar screen to the right the triple crawl giving the news, stock quotes and weather on the bottom of the screen next to the logo of the station you are watching which is directly under the little dancing man advertising what show is next after the one that you are currently watching is over, not that you care because you really can’t see it anyway because of all the stuff that is on the screen. Do I REALLY want to know what time it is…that bad?
Another song from the early 70’s started “If I could put time in a bottle…” After this morning, I think I would prefer to lose the time and keep the bottle, preferably filled with Jim Beam. Then I really wouldn’t care what time it is, and probably go through life much happier
This morning, while getting ready for church services, I looked at grandfather clock in the hallway and it said 9:45. The clock in the family room said 10:20. The clock in the kitchen said 10:05. I looked at my watch, and it said 5:08. The battery stopped. And the clock on the coffee maker simply blinked as the power had gone out for a few minutes yesterday. The clock in my car said 9:00 as I had yet to change it from standard time to daylight savings time.
So using my extraordinary powers of deduction, I concluded that it was 10:00. The clock in the family room runs fast, and is now 20 minutes ahead of where it should be. We keep it that way so we don’t dally over our morning coffee as we start to get ready for work at 6:00 in the morning. The grandfather clock in the hallway loses at least a minute to two minutes each day, and none of us had bothered to move the clock ahead. The digital clocks are a fiasco all by themselves. They are supposed to have battery back up to prevent the blinkin’ blinking, but the batteries had run out and I couldn’t figure out where to put in the new ones. The clock in my car, which was accurate under “slow” time, is beyond my technological capability in figuring out how to set it. So many buttons, so little time. The last time I tried to set it, I accidently "pimped my ride" by turning up the bass on the radio, excuse me...sound system, so loud I had to take it to the dealership to turn it down.
How I long for the days of my Big Ben alarm clock. You either wound it up on the back of the clock, or on the more advanced ones, plugged it in. On the electric ones, the dial acted as a night light. On the wind up ones, it had enough radiation in those green, glowing illuminated hands to fuel Three Mile Island or Chernobyl. Always accurate, I was never late. Those suckers got me through college and midnight feedings of the baby.
Now I rely on the little clock on the cable television screen to tell me what time it is. You know, the one in the little swirly box right next to the Doppler radar screen to the right the triple crawl giving the news, stock quotes and weather on the bottom of the screen next to the logo of the station you are watching which is directly under the little dancing man advertising what show is next after the one that you are currently watching is over, not that you care because you really can’t see it anyway because of all the stuff that is on the screen. Do I REALLY want to know what time it is…that bad?
Another song from the early 70’s started “If I could put time in a bottle…” After this morning, I think I would prefer to lose the time and keep the bottle, preferably filled with Jim Beam. Then I really wouldn’t care what time it is, and probably go through life much happier
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