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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