About Time
by
Margo Oxendine,
Contributing Writer
Margo Oxendine
|
It�s five o�clock somewhere ... in my house!
It�s almost time to change our
clocks.
This seemingly simple task is rather aggravating around
our house. I just made a careful count: I have 18 clocks, not counting the
one in my car. I just walked around the house and checked. Not one of the
clocks shows the same time as another.
There are three clocks in the kitchen � a flamingo wall
clock, one on the stove, and one on the micro�wave. They read 1:00, 1:01 and
1:03.
In my home office, there are also three clocks. The one
on my computer reads 1:05. The one on the wall reads 12:42. The keepsake
clock my father got from Mr. Sikorsky � the one with a little helicopter
that flies around the numbers � reads 10:36. It stopped years ago, but I�m
not about to part with it; Daddy loved that clock. As they say, �Even a
stopped clock is right twice a day.�
If anyone asks me the time, I�ll simply say, �Shortly
after one.�
The clock on the office wall is a cheap one. I bought it
at a dollar store when the cheap clock from another cheap store stopped
working after 17 years. This new cheap clock is four months old. It hasn�t
kept time properly for two months.
This can pose a problem. Even though there is a fairly
correct clock on my computer, I have a habit of simply glancing at the wall
to check the time. Because of this, I�ve missed a couple of appointments, or
had to forgo a shower in order to make a meeting.
In my fabulous new bathroom, there is a hot-pink clock
shaped like a flamingo. Her legs swing back and forth in a time-keeping
rhythm. Yet she, too, is slowing down after just a few months. No problem.
When I am wallowing around in a froth of bubbles, I don�t really care what
time it is.
In my closet is a black Kit Kat clock. It is adorable. It
only worked for about 12 days. It�s quite cute, though, and since my mother
bought it for me, it will stay just where it is, frozen in time.
I have just one clock that plugs into the wall. It is
sleek and pink and of an Art Deco design. My sister bought it for me. It is
an alarm clock, not that I really need one anymore. I am now old enough to
wake up naturally at the crack of dawn.
The one time I did need to set the alarm, I discovered
the pink clock is aptly named. It is the most alarming timekeeping device
I�ve ever known. Imagine, lying deep in slumber. Suddenly, you are aware of
a bright red light flashing throughout the room. Are the police here? Is the
place on fire?
Just in case those thoughts don�t propel you from your
bed, the clock has a back-up feature. After flashing for a few minutes, a
jarring, clanging ringing commences. The only comparison I can offer is, it
reminds me of when I was a teenager, and my father would sneak in and hide a
loud metal alarm clock inside a coffee can under my bed while I was
sleeping.
In case you should need to rouse a sleeping teenager,
folks, this method is sure-fire.
The clock on my car dashboard is 23 minutes fast. It used
to fool me, but now I know and simply do the math as I race down the road.
The occasional passenger, however, is unaware of this, and I forget to tell
them. This explains their looks of discomfort and anxiety when we drive to
an appointment.
The clock on my screened porch is two hours slow, but I
won�t worry about that until April. By then, we�ll have to turn all the
clocks forward anyway.
Part of my problem is this: I literally have a face that
can stop a clock. All my life, I�ve been able to walk past a clock or
electrical device and make it go kerflooey. I guess I exude some sort of
unseen magnetic field. My mother always joked about it.
I just now checked some of the clocks, and learned I have written this
column in somewhere between 22 and 47 minutes; then again, if I check a
couple other clocks, I may discover that I finished before I even began.
That�s quite a nice accomplishment, wouldn�t you agree?