Wednesday, May 10, 2017

Mansion Clocks Can't Take A Lickin'

The battery quit in the basement clock the other day. I wondered why every time I looked up, it was 1:40 a.m. Because I kept watching TV, you know, my DVRs of Dawson's Creek. I watch at least two per night, because I record them during the day. And I was at least an episode-and-a-half in, without time seeming to pass.

Then I realized that the clock had stopped. It was almost 4:00 a.m., by cracky! I might as well not even go to bed! But I did. And for two or three days, I kept forgetting to take a battery down there for the clock. Once I remembered, I had a bit of a problem getting the old battery out. It was just a AA battery. But it was a tight fit. I finally hooked a fingernail on the end, and pulled it loose.

That battery was kind of slimy. It's not like when the batteries corrode and get all that crusty whitey-greenish crystal stuff on them. This battery looked perfectly normal. But it was slick. Not like snot, but like egg whites. A thin slime. I wiped my hands on a hand towel that is on the #1 Son's old desk for no reason, I suppose other than a slimy clock battery emergency.

Then I tried to put in a new battery. It fit in, but the clock didn't work. It has a second hand that didn't move. So I took THAT battery out, and tried a new one from the pack. The boys had a habit of putting used batteries in with the new ones. I don't know why. I guess they figured there was still life in them, once removed from a gadget they didn't want anymore. second new battery wouldn't fit into the battery case right. It looked right, but wouldn't slide in completely. With that clock sitting on #1's old desk, I thumped the battery with my hand. To pop it in, you know. It took several tries. Then I turned it around to see if the second hand was running.

Um. No.

All three hands were in the 6:30 position! And if I turned the clock, all three hands responded to gravity, and pointed straight down. I guess I had knocked the hands off their slots in the little peg that holds the hands. No big deal. We've had that clock since we got married. It was Farmer H's clock. Looks like a school clock to me. Nothing fancy. Though when the scenario was revealed to him, it seemed to have sentimental value. Oh, well. So did my kitchen table and chairs that he gave to a guy at his factory that he barely knew.

I have a clock in my office kind of like it. Its battery has been dead for several months. I replaced that two nights ago, and it was NOT slimy.

However...I set the clock one hour behind. So after a couple days of that, I finally fixed it. I bought a new clock at The Devil's Playground for the main basement area. Then I noticed it didn't have a second hand. Oh, well. I can always swap out the clock from my dark basement lair.

Whenever I get around to it.
Time doesn't really have a lot of meaning to me now that I'M RETIRED.


Sioux Roslawski said...

I'm TIRED of being reminded you are reTIRED.

Perhaps I will boycott your blog until you stop this flaunting-in-my-face stuff...

fishducky said...

Retired people don't need a second hand. They only need a clock so they don't miss their TV shows!!

Hillbilly Mom said...

You know you can't quit me, Madam! I thought you would be HAPPY FOR ME each time I unmentionable. After all, I still wish for snow days for YOU, and all the other people who are not...unmentionable.

You ain't a woofin'! That, and to see when it's 3:00 a.m. and time to go to bed.

Kathy's Klothesline said...

HeWho goes a little nuts when all the clocks don't match up. I don't really care so much, I use my cell phone for the time .... unless I happen to look at the clock on my dash and assume that HeWho has the clock fetish has put the correct time on it.

Hillbilly Mom said...

That's where our interchangeable menfolk differ. Farmer H is quite lax in his timekeeping. He sets clocks a couple minutes slow. None of ours match. His cuckoo clock may chime ten minutes before the hour, or twenty minutes after, depending on if he let it run down for a day.