Tic Toc
Tic…..Toc………Tic……….Toc………….Tic…………………..Toc…………………Tic……………..Toc. …………………………………TIC
The second hand slowly, very slowly, wound its way around the face of the clock. I was sure that the battery powering this clock must
be running low. It had to be because of the lack of speed at which time was passing. It was going so slowly that dust had
accumulated on the second hand. Could too much dust and the weight there of, cause the second hand to slow down?
I counted the specks of dust and then calculated their weight. I was going to send the information to the clock manufacturer. Maybe
they could tell me if that could be the cause of the time pieces apparent lack of accuracy. I thought that maybe I should clean the
clocks hands of this dust, thus to speed time up, but I seemed to lack the enthusiasm to do so. In fact I seemed to be moving very
slowly myself.
Moments before noticing the clock I had found myself in my truck cleaning the interior. Being that I take such good care of the truck
there was not much for me to do, but non the less there I was using a q-tip to get to every conceivable place. There was no place for
dirt or dust to hide. Even in places that I would never be able to see, in fact only the odd insect would ever see, I was cleaning. Stab,
swab, and stab again was my method to access the hidden dark home of the dreaded grime. Slowly, very slowly the truck became
even cleaner than it had started out. The only evidence of this was the dirt on the q-tips, because other than that, nothing looked
different.
I guess that may have been the reason I had noticed the dust on the clock, having just done battle with this enemy in the truck. Time
slowly ticked by and watching the clock was not helping so I went to the refrigerator. Maybe there is something there to eat.
Have you ever noticed that no matter how hard you look, nor how many times you look, if you are not hungry there is nothing in the
refrigerator to eat? Well I should have known there was nothing there I wanted, because I had already checked it many times in the
last few minutes. I went back to the clock to see how much time had passed and it was not passing any faster.
I aimlessly wondered around the house and ended up in the garage next to my toolbox. I sat down and began organizing the many
tools found there. Slowly, very slowly each piece found its proper spot, and before it was put there it was cleaned. I was actually
having some fun doing this, but all too soon there was nothing there left to be cleaned. Now what?
Ah yes, the tackle box! It too was in need of cleaning and I was up to the task. What else did I have to do? It was not long before I
found what had been causing that foul odor permeating throughout the garage. No, it was not the dried worms from the last trout
fishing trip three years ago. Nor was it that peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the bottom of the tackle box that had morfed into
something unrecognizable. Nay neither was it the "Smelly Jelly" (yes real stuff) jar that had been left opened, which now was more the
consistency of smelly crust.
No none of these items could match the pungent odor coming from the bag of fresh (at least at one time) herring that had been
purchased two months ago and forgotten there where they lay, never to be used for the purpose for which they were bought. Now
as bad as this odor was it still did not rise to the horrid discovery of the crab juice I have talked about earlier, but it would have to be
put into my top ten. Soon the tackle box was shinning and smelling like a sweet rose in spring time, hell who was I kidding, at least it
was organized though! Now what?
I guess I could go throw the ball for the dogs. That’s always good to burn up a few minutes. I went around the outside of the house
and not through it, to get to the back yard, else my wife might sense my lack of anything to do and find something for me. I was trying
to kill time but was not that interested nor blood thirsty enough to enlist her help.
TIC…………….TOC…………………………TIC……………TOC
As I was throwing the ball I began to think. Was September ever going to roll around? I was sure that by Presidential decree,
September had been replaced. Hunting season could never start without September and it seemed that it would never get here. I
was bored! I was really bored! I was already not sleeping well at night. That usually did not start until September got closer.
The list of things for the big hunt had been changed and refined and then changed again until there was nothing left to do. In fact,
never has there been so much time spent on such a list. I dreamed about the list. I spent untold countless hours talking on the
phone and e-mailing to the various participants in this hunt. Nothing was left but for it to be time to go!
I guess I could start putting the sleeping bags out in the front room so that they would not be forgotten. The guns and ammo should
be put there also. How about the supply of food that I have already accumulated? Hmm? If I stack it neatly, as though it were
something that was supposed to be there, like a new couch, could I get my wife's approval? No, if she sees me doing that she will
know I need something to do! Maybe I could pile it in my sons room. No, it might get lost in there. Some items have already dropped
into that black hole. The garage maybe? No, the only spare room in the garage is where my wife parks her car and if I want to park my
tired body in bed tonight, it is best not to mess with that sacred spot. Oh well, I best wait until time has passed some.
What I fear is that something may come along that could cause the trip not to happen. Maybe that super volcano, under Yellowstone
that the Public Broadcasting channel was talking about the other night, will blow and end life as we know it, for instance. I guess I
would not care then. Maybe that is why I have not been sleeping? Does the public really need to know that if it does blow that we are
all dead and only cockroaches will be around?
I think I should write them a letter and tell them what I think about them needlessly scaring me, and when that is done I think I will see
if anything is in the refrigerator to eat.
TIC ……………………………TOC……………………
Tic…..Toc………Tic……….Toc………….Tic…………………..Toc…………………Tic……………..Toc. …………………………………TIC
The second hand slowly, very slowly, wound its way around the face of the clock. I was sure that the battery powering this clock must
be running low. It had to be because of the lack of speed at which time was passing. It was going so slowly that dust had
accumulated on the second hand. Could too much dust and the weight there of, cause the second hand to slow down?
I counted the specks of dust and then calculated their weight. I was going to send the information to the clock manufacturer. Maybe
they could tell me if that could be the cause of the time pieces apparent lack of accuracy. I thought that maybe I should clean the
clocks hands of this dust, thus to speed time up, but I seemed to lack the enthusiasm to do so. In fact I seemed to be moving very
slowly myself.
Moments before noticing the clock I had found myself in my truck cleaning the interior. Being that I take such good care of the truck
there was not much for me to do, but non the less there I was using a q-tip to get to every conceivable place. There was no place for
dirt or dust to hide. Even in places that I would never be able to see, in fact only the odd insect would ever see, I was cleaning. Stab,
swab, and stab again was my method to access the hidden dark home of the dreaded grime. Slowly, very slowly the truck became
even cleaner than it had started out. The only evidence of this was the dirt on the q-tips, because other than that, nothing looked
different.
I guess that may have been the reason I had noticed the dust on the clock, having just done battle with this enemy in the truck. Time
slowly ticked by and watching the clock was not helping so I went to the refrigerator. Maybe there is something there to eat.
Have you ever noticed that no matter how hard you look, nor how many times you look, if you are not hungry there is nothing in the
refrigerator to eat? Well I should have known there was nothing there I wanted, because I had already checked it many times in the
last few minutes. I went back to the clock to see how much time had passed and it was not passing any faster.
I aimlessly wondered around the house and ended up in the garage next to my toolbox. I sat down and began organizing the many
tools found there. Slowly, very slowly each piece found its proper spot, and before it was put there it was cleaned. I was actually
having some fun doing this, but all too soon there was nothing there left to be cleaned. Now what?
Ah yes, the tackle box! It too was in need of cleaning and I was up to the task. What else did I have to do? It was not long before I
found what had been causing that foul odor permeating throughout the garage. No, it was not the dried worms from the last trout
fishing trip three years ago. Nor was it that peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the bottom of the tackle box that had morfed into
something unrecognizable. Nay neither was it the "Smelly Jelly" (yes real stuff) jar that had been left opened, which now was more the
consistency of smelly crust.
No none of these items could match the pungent odor coming from the bag of fresh (at least at one time) herring that had been
purchased two months ago and forgotten there where they lay, never to be used for the purpose for which they were bought. Now
as bad as this odor was it still did not rise to the horrid discovery of the crab juice I have talked about earlier, but it would have to be
put into my top ten. Soon the tackle box was shinning and smelling like a sweet rose in spring time, hell who was I kidding, at least it
was organized though! Now what?
I guess I could go throw the ball for the dogs. That’s always good to burn up a few minutes. I went around the outside of the house
and not through it, to get to the back yard, else my wife might sense my lack of anything to do and find something for me. I was trying
to kill time but was not that interested nor blood thirsty enough to enlist her help.
TIC…………….TOC…………………………TIC……………TOC
As I was throwing the ball I began to think. Was September ever going to roll around? I was sure that by Presidential decree,
September had been replaced. Hunting season could never start without September and it seemed that it would never get here. I
was bored! I was really bored! I was already not sleeping well at night. That usually did not start until September got closer.
The list of things for the big hunt had been changed and refined and then changed again until there was nothing left to do. In fact,
never has there been so much time spent on such a list. I dreamed about the list. I spent untold countless hours talking on the
phone and e-mailing to the various participants in this hunt. Nothing was left but for it to be time to go!
I guess I could start putting the sleeping bags out in the front room so that they would not be forgotten. The guns and ammo should
be put there also. How about the supply of food that I have already accumulated? Hmm? If I stack it neatly, as though it were
something that was supposed to be there, like a new couch, could I get my wife's approval? No, if she sees me doing that she will
know I need something to do! Maybe I could pile it in my sons room. No, it might get lost in there. Some items have already dropped
into that black hole. The garage maybe? No, the only spare room in the garage is where my wife parks her car and if I want to park my
tired body in bed tonight, it is best not to mess with that sacred spot. Oh well, I best wait until time has passed some.
What I fear is that something may come along that could cause the trip not to happen. Maybe that super volcano, under Yellowstone
that the Public Broadcasting channel was talking about the other night, will blow and end life as we know it, for instance. I guess I
would not care then. Maybe that is why I have not been sleeping? Does the public really need to know that if it does blow that we are
all dead and only cockroaches will be around?
I think I should write them a letter and tell them what I think about them needlessly scaring me, and when that is done I think I will see
if anything is in the refrigerator to eat.
TIC ……………………………TOC……………………
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