What is the meaning of the work CLOCK? According to a little paperback Webster's Dictionary, it is 1. an instrument that tells time , or #2... to time with a watch, clock, or stopwatch. Well, I am adding another meaning of my own to the list: A clock is an object made of plastic or metal which has a nagging way of keeping me AHEAD of time rather than just being ON time.
To explain this unique definition, I’ve decided to take you through a typical clock-oriented workday of mine. At 5:00 the iPod clock goes off playing Handel’s Water Music to gently awaken my from my sound sleep as calmly as possible. I have always been told most heart attacks come first thing in the morning because of the stress to your body going from sleep mode to awake mode. I certainly do not what to live through or not live through that sennario. Beside that black clock you see a second clock...a white one that is loud and rude. It is set for 5:30 to make good and sure I am awake. No one could possibly sleep through the obnoxious tone of that thing.
At this point I turn on "Way to Early" with that cutie pie, Willy Geist. I love him....he looks like a little teddy bear up there on MSNBC. Wrapped securely with my down comforter, blanket, and quilt around me, I remain propped up on pillows drinking the tea or coffee my husband brings in to me each and every morning. Next, you will see the clock that hangs in front of me over the door going into my beautiful, handicap friendly, BIG bathroom. I get so caught up in “Morning Joe" I forget to look at the ones on my bedside table so I’ve hung that backup where I can see it easily. I stay put in my comfy bed until the time is 6:00. OK, gal...it’s time for the REAL RUSH to begin in earnest.
Into the shower I go (on demand hot water heaters are great in these situations) taking my morning-constitutional shower. The minute I step out - PRESTO - I see another el cheapo WallyWorld clock silently shouting at me..."Get a move on, old lady!” It’s beside the sink so I cannot miss it.
The next move it to brush both my real and the fake teeth... I have a lovely combination of those being I’m 71. From there I move quickly to my ironing board where I have my wrinkle free outfit waiting to be put on. I know you should never END a sentence with a preposition, place a comma in the wrong place, and not write with correct structure, but since I am no longer actually teaching I can do as I please, thank goodness! Now, I go back to the basin and comb what grayish-white hair I still have, put on some jewelry I think the kids will like, shove on the shoes over the bunyons, and put on my watch with the BIG dial. I am so far sighted I cannot see anything close up unless it is huge or I am wearing my specs.
Now I head into the livingroom to pick up my Vera Bradley briefcase I packed up the night before, snatch up my super filled pocketbook, and once again check the clock in there to be sure I am O.K. and on time,
Into the dining room I go...the ONLY room without a clock. After plopping my stuff on the dining room table, I head for the kitchen to get my pre-made lunch out of the fridge.....school lunches have no appeal to me...YUCKY, YUCKY!! Once again, I have a clock to look at, a neon one that blinks two colors back and forth....it is so cool. By now it can be NO LATER than 6:55 because that HAS TO BE MY DT (departure time).
I will not allow myself to be LATE to school, and it is a 30 minute drive over 2 interstates and a few curvy backroads...and that is on a GOOD DAY! The bell rings at 7:45, and I just have to be in my room before it goes off. I NEVER want to be late. I've no time to spare, for I need to allow a little extra time in case there are any traffic mess-ups. Out the door I charge. Once in the Vibe, I do NOT look at the dashboard clock. It takes all the brain power I can muster just to keep my eyes pointed squarely in front of me, my brain working 100%, and trying to stay out of the way of the speeding truckers. I do NOT speed...not ever! Yep , I am one of those you hate to get behind if you are in a hurry.
Finally, I arrive at school and charge into my "cellblock"... an old closet space with no windows. The kids and I decided “cellblock” was an approptiate name for it. For those of you who do not know, I am a retired 6th grade English teacher turned "prison matron" of our in-school suspension room. Actually, it is pretty nice in there. I have a really neat clock , and the kids love it...my New York Yankees clock.I gave it to my husnabd, an avid Yankees Fan, and then I stoke it back... bad girl, Genie! It can blast out loudly all kind of things when I press the button the the right. The best one is, "It's a homerun!" In the room there are two more clocks on the walls so the children can see what time it is from any angle. That is the most important thing on their minds when in the cellblock...the time. The Yankees clock sits in its place of honor beside my rocking chair, and the others are on the walls.
O.K....you are almost done. Now that you have read all of this, there is only one conclusion you can reach... either this old gal is an OCD clock watcher or else she is just crazy. Well, it is neither. I just do NOT like to be late...period, exclamation point...guess I can blame it on the nuns! I try to be early everywhere I have an appointment, and work definitely falls into that category. Trust me, the nuns did NOT tolerate tardiness. They trained me well, so well, that if I see I am going to be just the least bit late I PULL OFF the road and call to advise the powers-that-be of my dire situation. If on the interstate I pull off at an exit and call. I do NOT talk on the phone and drive. I was one of Oprah's girls long before she started her campaign to stop people from talking and texting while behind the wheel. I won’t even allow my husband to talk and drive. I do all the dialing, answering, and talking for him. Once the class day begins, the bells are my best time clock...and it goes on until 3:15 when I make the return trip home to begin the countdown to bedtime all over again. This is my day!
Well, there you have it..my dissertation on the word, CLOCK. To tell you the truth, maybe...just maybe...I am a bit OCD with the clock thing, but at least I do not get admonished about being late. I hope some of you can relate to my story.
HAPPY ALPHABE THURSDAY TO ALL OF YOU WRITERS OUT THERE!