Crazy time.

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Ever have one of those days where you’re fishing in really shallow waters, knowing your chances are slim to none of catching anything worthwhile? And yet, you keep it up hoping on hope that something will come of it?

This is one of those days. Slackness masquerading as substance.

We have a clock mounted on the bulkhead between our kitchen and dining room that we call crazy time and I actually took a picture of it for this post before realizing how unbelievably lame it was.

The picture- not the crazy time clock, but maybe this post.

The clock was given to us by one of Miss Carol’s brothers when he came to visit. It’s hip and cool and very contemporary, with loads of textures and gobs of happy colors. It’s onliest problem is that it doesn’t keep time in the linear, accepted, sense, choosing instead to keep time in a more abstract and contemporary fashion.

I’ve fixed it a couple of times but it’s stubborn, which is fine, meaning I finally just succumbed and gave up. You gotta pick your fights and there’s lots you’re not gonna win and this was one.

Instead, Miss Carol and me have accepted and embraced our crazy time. The clock’s hands freely spin at their own speed, whenever they want, at a rate known only to them, and we’re just constantly entertained by whatever time it gives us.

Hoo boy, can laziness pirouette?

 

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