time for thinking

My friend Tom says that I seem Hannaford-obsessed. I don't mean to be. I do think about other things.

Hmm. Don't I?

Is my life dull?

There are six clocks in my life.

The first one is right next to me in bed. I don't mean on a table next to the bed, I mean IN the bed. I like it to be handy so I can pick it up and put it right in front of my eyes in the night. This is why I can't have a boyfriend. Or a husband. I must have the clock. Okay, so let's call that one the primary clock. It's theoretically supposed to be on time, but I think it could be slightly fast. Or it was fast before the last power failure, which after I reset it, I think I forgot to make it slightly fast again.

My alarm goes off at 6:05 a.m. and I eventually end up downstairs, where the second clock hangs on the wall. This is a miracle clock. I have never replaced its battery and it has been my stalwart in all power failures and electrical storms. Though it's been going for years, it's been losing time lately. I think it is about ten minutes slow, possibly approaching eleven. So when I see it, I feel heartened. But almost immediately I remember that it's NOT correct and I check the microwave clock, which would be the third clock. [this is getting like the Twelve Days of Christmas] The third (microwave) clock theoretically shows the correct time, but I can never remember if it is slightly fast or slow. It usually makes me feel tense. At any rate, it's approximately ten minutes faster than the miracle clock on the wall and that has been holding for a while. This all makes sense to me.

Back upstairs as I slump down in front of the computer screen with my yogurt, I see Clock Number Four, the computer clock, which [again] theoretically is correct. It's slower than the microwave clock, though, and I get lulled by it as I sit there and waste my time reading boston.com. When it says 6:50 I know I have to get up and walk away. That's when I look at myself in the mirror and decide to try on most of my clothes and throw them all on the bed or the floor. There's another clock on the table next to the bed. I didn't mention that one, did I? I don't use it and never set it after power failures so it just blinks all the time. Should it be counted as a clock? I say yes. Clock Number Five.

Finally, I fly down the stairs dressed for the day and pour a big cup of coffee for the road. Most of it gets spilled down the front of my outfit and also into the gear shift of my Honda. Clock Number Six is in the car, of course (did you guess?) and it is reliably three minutes fast. At least I think it is. The best way to get the time is to tune in WBZ.

Good night.