For all that is holy, how horrifying.

Let me preface this post with the understanding that I had, for my entire life, an extremely dysfunctional relationship with money.

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Unless, it’s a digital clock. Then, it’s just broken.

“Your clock says it’s 12:05.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, I know what the stupid clock says.

Not that there are more pressing issues, but I’m not sad about the daylight savings thing.

Every time we change our clocks, I spend days in a fog. And that gets worse every year. Like this last one? I’m still not sure what time it is. I just know I’m goddamn tired.

Anyway, broken clocks.

I had this alarm clock with red numbers. Nothing fancy. Made an unpleasant sound. I had that clock for at least 35 years. I bought it 14 years before I met Randy. That was my alarm clock from age 18 until around age 53. But as happens with electronics, there comes a day when the clock went from waking me up every day to becoming trash.

So, I bought a new alarm clock. A little brighter. It worked. The alarm wasn’t quite as obnoxious.

Clock #2 made it six fucking years before crapping out. Six years. I had the other one for 35. Also, get off my lawn.

I ordered a new clock two days ago. It’s on my bedside table right now as I type this. It did indeed say “12:05” and now says “12:15”.

The clock is a circle, like a sun. With a five star rating, the clock costs under 50 bucks. It’s supposed to bring up a natural light and, as the alarm goes off, you get sounds which could be ocean waves or wind chimes. Shit like that. Not stupid blaring alarms like the broken one or the alarm clock that tortured me with terrible sounds for 35 years.

I bought a kind clock. A friendly clock. A clock who was on my side. What a concept. This could be a game changer.

If I woke up to natural light and the sound of chirping birds, then every morning would be like Snow White or Cinderella or some shit.

Turns out, I’m having a few problems.

First, I can’t find my prescription bifocals. I had to buy two stupidly expensive pairs and now I can’t find my house pair. I also have a work pair. 

All I had was a pair of drugstore readers.

The clock buttons are small and the same color as the surrounding area of the clock. Without glasses, I can tell there are around 10 or 12 buttons, but they all look the same.

With drug store readers, I see different shapes on the buttons, but I don’t think I’m seeing them right. I see what looks like a spirograph thingy, a circle with little circles around it, like a flower and maybe a sun?

There is definitely a plus and a minus and the middle part might be the symbol for the artist formerly known as Prince.

The sun glowed softly and the clock said “12:00”.

I mean, I didn’t see the light and the incorrect time right away. Some things had to happen.

Randy had his bifocals on this face. I asked him to read the directions to me.

Randy: Yeah, this print is too small. I can’t read this.

Then, he started watching The Sopranos.

I took back the directions.

Me: Nothing is going to happen until I plug it in.

Randy: The plug is behind the bed.

Me: I can get under the bed.

Randy:..

Me: I can get under the fucking bed.

What was working in my favor, is that when we moved into this house, Randy bought a new base for our bed. He bought an absurdly tall one which means I can fit under the bed platform.

It’s just that the occasions, when I find myself scooting on my belly across the floor, are rare.

Being underneath the bed wasn’t pleasant. It hurt my knees. And I am a terrible housekeeper.

I plugged in the clock and climbed back on the bed.

If I had more light, I thought I would be able to better see the buttons. Maybe, read the directions. I asked the nice lady in my phone to turn on my flashlight.

First, I looked at the buttons which I could see a little better. The spirograph thingy looked a little clearer.

I put down the phone and picked up the directions.

When I picked up the phone, I shined the light directly into my eyes. Remember camera flashbulbs? Yes, spots.

I think the directions said to hold the spirograph thing down for two seconds. I did and nothing happened.

Me: Fucking hell.

Randy:…

Me: Maybe, I’m supposed to hold the flower down.

Randy: That sentence probably wouldn’t make sense to most people.

I don’t know what series of buttons I pushed, but the time started flashing, like I could change it. I changed the hours, but couldn’t figure out how to change the minutes.

Me: I think after the plus sign. I’m supposed to press the sunshine. Or Prince.

Me: Dude.

Randy: What?

Me: I am not even kidding. The word “Pluto” flashed and the clock went dead.

I pushed all the buttons, but couldn’t get the clock to do anything. So, I shined the flashlight behind the bed.

The clock was unplugged.

The cord is too short. We decided the best way to deal with the short cord was to shift the bed over a bit. Problem solved. That hasn’t happened yet, because like I said, Randy is watching The Sopranos now.

I plugged in the clock and started randomly pushing buttons again, but carefully. I didn’t want to risk unplugging it again. I very nearly got the time to change. I know how to make the sun brighter or dimmer.

The clock made cricket noises for a minute and reads “1:05” now.

I miss my old clocks.

My phone will have to be my alarm again tomorrow. I realize that a lot of people have been using their phone for alarms for years, but not me.

Phones are phones and alarms are alarms. Again, get off my lawn. 

I do use the timer on my phone when I bake, though. Which is only kind of true. Mostly, I ask Randy to set the timer on his phone.

My magical clock feels a bit less magical right now. I don’t want to give up hope. I just have to figure out a solution.

I could bring my work glasses home, but then I run the risk of forgetting them when I go back to work. Then, I’m fucked. Or I could ask Joey to set it up for me, but I have to pick a moment where I won’t mind being mocked by my child. Because there would be mocking about my age and failing eyesight. It’s how we do.

Either way, I’m kind of done with it for the night. Wish me luck for tomorrow. Or maybe send a prayer up that the clock fairy will set it for me.

At the very least, if I could just locate my at house bifocals.

I think I’d like the alarm to be ocean waves.

Very little about this post will make sense.

There are a number of reasons for this.

One, and this is paramount, I took tomorrow off because I wanted a vacation day where I actually feel decent and it’s my birthday. But that’s not the reason. Since I’m starting a 3 day weekend, I decided to celebrate with a few cocktails.

Another reason is that Randy and I spent about an hour making each other laugh until we cried. And we knew that nearly everything we talked about would be gone forever. We were too busy making each other laugh to write anything down.

Me: Okay, okay. Let’s just remember “4 sticks of butter” and “inka dinka doo”. That will bring all this back.

Randy: Yeah. Yeah, that should do it.

Now? I got nothing. No idea what that means, but I do know, that about 90 minutes ago, it was some funny shit.

Okay, I have a slight memory, but that’s not the point.

I totally warned you this would make no sense, so try to keep up.

Anyway, Randy put The Sopranos on TV and I left the room. I love The Sopranos, but life is upsetting and surreal right now. It’s been upsetting and weird for years now. It’s exhausting. I want to watch something funny.

I walked out on our front porch to see what weather we were experiencing.

We’ve gone from mid sixties to ice and snow and back again a few times.

Cold and rainy. Cold and rainy is really better than ice and snow, but that doesn’t mean that cold and rainy doesn’t suck ass.

We have a few outdoor cats in our neighborhood. The only kitties who visit me are tabbies. Little Kitty and then the tabby down the street whose name I don’t know. I call him, Mean Kitty. I call him that because he beats up Little Kitty sometimes.

So, Mean Kitty trotted up the porch and he was not even a little happy about the weather.

Mean Kitty: MAAUUUU (Oh my god, do you see this shit? It sucks. I’m wet. I hate this.)

Me: Hey buddy.

MK: MAAUUU (Did you not hear me? Have you no heart? I am uncomfortable.) 

Me: I know. I’m sorry. It’s cold.

MK: MAAUUU (Do you, perhaps have any food?)

I called Randy from the front porch.

Randy: Yes?

Me: Mean Kitty is wet and cold and really sad. Can you bring out some food?

Randy: We don’t want to do that.

Me: But he’s really cold. I think he needs food.

Randy: He’ll never leave and he has a home.

Me: Yeah. Yeah, okay. That’s probably best.

Me: Bye.

Randy: Bye.

Then I went in the house and I thought how weird it was that we ended our conversation by saying “Bye” to each other. My porch and living room are right next to each other. If I had been in the living room and called out to Randy and we had a conversation where we couldn’t see each other, we wouldn’t end the conversation with “bye”. We’d just stop talking when we were done talking.

Humans are weird.

Okay, four sticks of butter.

Randy and I watched a video about a box cake mix hack.

Basically, it’s this: Most box cakes call for a cup of water, a half cup of vegetable oil and 3 eggs. The hack is, you use milk instead of water, 4 eggs instead of 3 eggs and 2 sticks of melted butter instead of the vegetable oil. And a box of pudding.

We did a lemon cake using this method and for all that is fucking holy, it was amazing. I also made buttercream icing. So, 4 sticks of butter in a single cake.

We were talking about how we would change it up and make it chocolate, and whenever Randy would talk I would whisper “4 sticks of butter” and “that’s a lot of butter” and “holy shit, we’re gonna die”. It made Randy laugh. I mean, I guess this is totally a “guess you had to be there” situation.

Inka dinka doo

We weren’t just laughing over the obscene amount of butter in our new favorite cake recipe, we were also laughing over what our sincere reaction would be if both of our cats started laughing like humans. In case you are wondering, that can never happen because it doesn’t end well for us or the cats. 

In the middle of the revelry, there was an odd noise.

Randy: What the fuck was that?

Me: My glass.

Randy: Your ass?

Me:…

Randy:,..

Me: My GLASS. the ice settled and made a weird binka dink tinky tink sound.

Randy:…

Randy: Inka dinka doo.

Me: You are so fucking old. Jimmy Durante? Really?

Randy: Need I point out that you got the reference?

Me:…

Randy: Happy birthday.

Now excuse me. I need to drink some water and get some sleep. I’m not a baby anymore you know. I’ll be goddamn sixty next year.

Image by Aline Ponce from Pixabay