Ticking And Tocking
I’ve got them scattered all around here, each for a different purpose. There’s one big round clock in the bathroom, aimed at the shower. When I get out, minus my glasses, I can see what time it is. A lot different from the old days when I hadn’t a clue. It was going to be thrown out because the second hand fell off.
My “official” clock is a RadioShack clock/timer, a square thing on my desk. I keep it accurate to the second every few weeks. It tends to run a bit off and I don’t like that a bit. I want to know what time it is, rather that what time it might sort of be. Too many years of doing radio, I guess.
People are split into two divisions: those who divide people into two divisions and those who don’t. But, also, those who are precise and those who make it up as they go along. “three o’clock” to the latter is anywhere between 2:30 and whenever; to the former, it’s anywhere between 2:59:55 and 3:00:05, preferably a bit more precise than that.
Don’t think we precisioners are obsessive; it’s just knowing where we are in this world of time and space. On my 95th birthday, for instance, we are due to come very close to a large rock hurtling through space. If its timing is off, just by seconds, we’re safe. If not, we’re toast. Big chunks of toast flying off in every direction.