This post title could mean so much. It could refer to the facets of my life that have kept me from updating the blog in months - despite birthdays and a fabulous trip to NZ to visit friends. It could refer to another musing of life and death and how every book I pick up lately confronts this theme. But, it is much more prosaic.
About two weeks ago now, I lost my watch. I love that watch - a Timex that is the third iteration of the perfect watch for work: not digital (can YOU count heart beats while watching digital numbers run past?) and with a second hand. Plus, it had "Indiglo" - push the crown (the once-upon-a-time-wind-me-up-button - I google the name for it, so don't give me any grief) and the face would glow in the dark. Perfect for checking the time in the middle of the night here where my on-the-bed clock only "glows" for a few minutes after the lights go out - and besides, I couldn't see it unless I pressed my face up to it or wore my glasses. My first such watch was a graduation gift from my Grandmother when I finished vet school. The "Indiglo" function died and I exchanged it for a "new one" - at Kohl's. (You can exchange ANYTHING at Kohl's. Take it from a former shoe department employee who accepted shoes in deplorable condition for exchange.) That watch eventually ran down and even a new battery wouldn't fix it. My third watch was a gift from my sister for my birthday a few years back..at least 2 watch bands and a battery ago. This is the watch I lost.
I looked all over the house with Kevin's admonition echoing in my ear - "there are only so many places it could be". Where did I have it last? At work. And, where are my scrubs from work? In the laundry.
I found it. I had washed and dried it. It lost 10 minutes. Ten minutes. How does that happen? Alien abduction was the first solution that came to mind. I reset it and put it on. The band was a little brittle feeling, but …
I noticed it was losing time. One minute every hour. And then, after a couple more days, it just stopped working. It is 8 o'clock.
This is about the time I got sick. Zupe had a fever for two days and was waking at night unhappy for two more. But me? I've had a non-stop, no sleep cough for 2 weeks. It really sucks the SECOND week you have to go to work with such a cough! I woke up Friday morning early dreading a fatigue filled work day and listening to the garbage pick-up. I plastered my face to my bed clock and turned on the light of my Kindle. Four AM. Wow. Early. More sleep (potentially) for me. I lie awake willing for sleep to return and recognising that sometimes my thoughts were a bit too bizarre and must be dreams. I open my eyes again and the bedroom has a soft glow of early morning. Experience tells me it is about 6:00 AM. I grab the clock and hold it level with my nose. The time is 4 AM.
Or,maybe it is 4 PM.